Fallen Angel 1
by Kushelkitten
Summary: Dylan goes on an undercover mission all by herself, then the Thin Man gets involved and an other past enemy... summary by Barbayat This is not a new story it is back by popular demand.
1. Default Chapter

NEW: To everyone... this is not a new story. You may have read it already. It was taken down but by popular request I am reinstating it and its sequel.  
  
A/N Hi all! Another story from me. I hope you like it. It was an idea I had in the shower. I seem to have lots of ideas there. I'm only writing this disclaimer once: I own none of the Angels, Charlie, Bosley or the Thin Man and make no money off of them. Thank you and happy reading!  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
It was a Monday morning. "Who likes Monday mornings?" Dylan wondered as she rushed around getting dressed and stuffing her face with the last few bites of a frozen Eggo waffle. She didn't know how it always happened that her alarm never went off on Monday mornings making her perpetually late. By now she was late so often Charlie had moved her starting time later to accommodate. Dylan was just glad he didn't fire her but took her tardiness in stride. She jammed her feet into a borrowed pair of Alex's boots, grabbed her purse and hopped into the car only to have to get back out of the car, run back inside and grab the forgotten car keys off the top of the coffee table.  
  
"One good thing about Monday's" she thought as she cranked up the radio to her favorite station, "by the time I leave rush hour is over." She arrived at the office where she worked, the Charles Townsend Agency at 10am, only an hour late. She walked inside hung up her jacket and called, "Hi guys." There was no answer. Dylan checked her watch again, puzzled as to where everyone was. "Hello?" she called. Still no one answered.  
  
"Bosley? Natalie? Alex?" She stepped into the main office and was surprised that her colleagues and best friends weren't there sitting out the couch as they usually were.  
  
Just then Jimmy Bosley came around the corner. "Hey girl."  
  
"Hi Bosley, I was starting to feel like I entered the twilight zone. Where is everyone," Dylan asked.  
  
Bosley took a sip of his coffee and said, "Charlie told them to take the day off. He wanted you here though." Dylan gave him a questioning look and sat on the leather couch as he walked over to the speaker phone.  
  
"Good Morning Dylan," came the voice of her unseen employer Charlie from the white speaker on the desk.  
  
"Morning Charlie," she replied. "Bosley said that you gave Natalie and Alex the day off."  
  
"That's correct. I have a special assignment for you Dylan. I know you can handle it though," said Charlie and Bosley handed her a manila folder. She opened it carefully and looked inside. "I took a lot into consideration for this case and felt that due to your personality you would be most believable on the assignment. You are not to speak to Natalie or Alex about this. They will be told be either myself or Bosley when the time is right."  
  
Dylan looked up from the folder and said, "I guess I don't understand. I have a folder with pictures of some of the biggest crime bosses in the world and their henchmen. What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Dylan you are now a rogue Angel," said Charlie.  
  
"What," she asked surprised.  
  
"I have a connection in the FBI that has asked for some outside assistance in this matter. You will be given all information on a need to know basis but you are now an assassin. The cover story is that you were unhappy with working here much like Madison was and decided to use your talents to make money in the crime world."  
  
"Are you sure that you want me for this?"  
  
"Very. If anyone were to check they would see that you have a history of rebellious behavior, a few minor scrapes with the law in your youth although you were never arrested or charged, and that you have left the agency before."  
  
"I was young and foolish and I left because I wanted to protect my friends," said Dylan defensively.  
  
"We know that Dylan," replied Charlie in his calm fatherly manner. "The people who you will be working for are the ones who won't realize that. You need to know that this is a very important assignment. Through your contacts with the people in the folder you will, we hope be led to the target. Once that happens, we plan to inform Natalie and Alex and they will go in to back you up catching him."  
  
"Who is the target and what does he want," she asked.  
  
"That we don't know although the FBI does have an idea what he wants. Unfortunately that information I am not allowed to give you yet."  
  
"But Bosley knows about my assignment."  
  
"Correct, he will be the one you report into. When you contact him you will give him the name 'Lucy' as in."  
  
"As in Lucifer, the fallen angel," Dylan said finishing the sentence for him.  
  
"Exactly, and Bosley, if the other angels ask, Lucy is your cousin from Dallas who is having marital problems. Do either of you have any other questions?"  
  
Dylan looked at Bosley then back at the speaker, "When do I begin?"  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The next morning Alex and Natalie arrived together at the office and sat on the couch discussing their day off and how they spent it with their respective boyfriends. "Did you hear from Dylan yesterday?"  
  
"No, why" asked Alex as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "I tried calling her but I didn't get any answer. It was strange because she had said she wanted to go shopping together our next day off. I guess she forgot."  
  
"Hey angels," said Bosley as he entered the room.  
  
"Your late Bos," laughed Alex. "You are never late."  
  
"A Bosley can't afford to be late. Plus I'm technically not late, I was just on the phone with." he paused catching himself.  
  
"With who Bos," asked Natalie joining Alex on the couch.  
  
"Just my cousin Lucy from Texas. She's been having these marital problems. Real unpleasant stuff," he recovered and made a face like he tasted something disgusting. Bosley watched both young women for a reaction but they appeared to believe him and he exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding. He hated to lie to them and worried they would kick his butt once they realized Lucy was Dylan.  
  
"Good Morning Angels," said the speakerphone voice.  
  
"Morning Charlie," said Alex and Natalie in unison.  
  
"You ladies have a new case today. You will be investigating the stolen diamonds of Mrs. Catherine Hardy," said Charlie as Bosley gave each of them the pertinent case information.  
  
"Uh Charlie," began Natalie, "shouldn't we wait for Dylan."  
  
"Not this time girls. Dylan has left the agency."  
  
Natalie and Alex looked at each other then at Bosley who shrugged his shoulders and said, "Don't look at me; I don't pay attention to what you're up to."  
  
"What do you mean she left the agency," asked Alex. "She went out for doughnuts?"  
  
"What I mean girls is that we will need to find a replacement angel."  
  
"Do you mean she quit," asked Natalie jumping to her feet. "Dylan would never just quit without telling us. That isn't like her."  
  
"Nat is right Charlie, Dylan would never just quit and not tell us that she was going, or tell us goodbye. Even when she was worried about O'Grady wanting to kill us she left us a note. I don't understand."  
  
"Girls, Girls," said Charlie trying to calm them. He had been afraid that they would have a hard time accepting the idea that Dylan left. He just hoped that the diamond case would be enough to distract them from wanting to investigate their friend. "Dylan hasn't been happy working here for quite awhile. She and I discussed this before and this time I agreed and let her go."  
  
Natalie looked at Alex, "Did she ever say anything to you?" Alex shook her head no. "Me either. Something doesn't seem right here Charlie."  
  
"It may not seem that way but it is what Dylan wanted. She also asked that neither one of you contact her, and I ask that you respect her wishes. Understood?"  
  
Natalie plopped down on the couch her arms across her chest and reluctantly agreed, "Understood."  
  
"Alex," asked Charlie. She stood there not answering. "Alex."  
  
She finally also agreed with reluctance, "Understood."  
  
"Good now here is the information on our case."  
  
*-*-*-*-* Dylan took one last glance around her apartment. It hadn't been much but it had been home and in less than three hours it was going to be sublet to a wannbe actress with one name. She decided to go back through for the third time making sure she had everything she could need with her then she spotted it. She picked up the medallion from the dresser top and dangled it by the gold chain. She didn't want to forget it; she didn't want to forget him. The Thin Man, Anthony she corrected, saved her life that night and died for it. She often dreamt of his kiss that burnt him into her memory forever and wondered what would have happened if things had been different. She slipped the necklace around her neck, grabbed her suitcase and loaded it into her car.  
  
It wasn't the same car she had always had. Charlie put her car into a secret storage facility for her. He didn't feel that her car was appropriate for an assassin of her supposed caliber so what stood in front of her building was a cute yet flashy Fiat Barchette convertible in corso red. It barely held anything she wanted to take but Charlie had told her not to worry everything she would need was in her new apartment.  
  
Dylan climbed in and placed the black wig on over her hair. It was part of the new image that Charlie's FBI friend, Agent Mitchum insisted she take. He had wanted her to dye it but she had refused saying that the wig would do. As she drove off she waved goodbye to her empty apartment and embarked on her new case. 


	2. Rules of the Game

Chapter 2: Rules of the Game (see Ch1 for all disclaimers)  
  
The Thin Man, Anthony, sat down crossed his legs and lit a cigarette. This would be the first job he had since he had nearly died a little over a year before. He badly needed the money that it would bring him should the man, known simply as "Chief", hire him. He had been training, working to get his body back into before injury condition for the last eight months. Before that he had nothing but bed rest thanks to the sword puncture that nicked the pleural sack of his right lung. Anything even as strenuous as walking to the bathroom had exhausted him but he seemed to be back to his old self with only occasional difficulties; but those he ignored.  
  
When he answered the internet advertisement for a professional killer he had expect to have an interview like with every other job he had as an assassin. This time a lackey of his prospective employer told him that there was no interview, Chief didn't care to hear what he could do but he wanted to see it. When he had responded to the email he asked what they meant. Their reply took him quite aback, they were having a competition and the last two standing would be hired. For a moment he had hesitated after reading it. Who wouldn't have? He had one thing on his opponents though; he knew they would underestimate him. They always did.  
  
He heard his computer happily chime, "You have mail." He sat down at the computer and looked at what he was sent. Most of it was spam for Viagra and home mortgages but he had one with the subject, "Rules of Conduct" sent from the re-mailer "Chief" used. It was a short e-mail all the jest of which was anything goes and no killing of the opponents. It made him feel better to know that even if he somehow failed the competition he would still be walking away with his life. At the bottom of the mail was a list with the names of the people he would be competing against. Many of the names he had heard before but a few were new to him and that didn't come as a surprise there always seemed to be young men of few morals who thought the life of an assassin would be glamorous. What did surprise him was the late entry of a Lucrezia Danress. Female hired killers while heard of were often the tigresses of the killing world preferring the hunt alone and would normally shun a competition like the one Chief was holding. "Oh well," he thought. "At least it will keep things interesting."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"She couldn't have just quit," said Natalie looking over at the Asian angel in the passenger seat. "She couldn't have and not telling us? That isn't like Dylan at all."  
  
Alex adjusted her Ray-ban sunglasses. "I know, she didn't even return my black suede Manolo Blahnik boots or the Metallica CD of Jason's she borrowed. That isn't like her, but do you think Charlie is lying? It isn't like Charlie to lie to us." Natalie hit the brakes and made a u-turn in the middle of a busy intersection. Around them other vehicles hit their brakes to keep from running into the two young women in the black sports car. "Where are you going," asked Alex looking at her watch, "We have to be at Catherine Hardy's at four o'clock."  
  
"We are going by Dylan's. Charlie didn't say anything about not stopping by. He just said we shouldn't call her," said Natalie with a sly gleam in her eye.  
  
"You're right he didn't. You can be really sneaky sometimes Nat." With a whoop they roared down the road. Ten minutes later they parked the car in front of Dylan's old apartment building and walked up the walk and rang the bell like they had hundreds of times before and like those times before the bell was once again out of service. Just then old Mr. Johnson, Dylan's downstairs neighbor from 5B came out with his beagle.  
  
"Hello girls," he said the dog tugging anxiously at the leash.  
  
"Hello Mr. Johnson," they said in unison.  
  
"Going up to see your little friend?"  
  
"Uh-huh," said Alex grabbing the door before it closed.  
  
"Seems she must have a new roommate, I saw a girl about your height," he pointed at Natalie, with curly brown hair moving in earlier. Seemed like a right nice little lady. Funny name though." He scratched his head trying to remember. "Can't seem to remember it. I suppose you already know it though. I better get Barney here for a walk before he does his business on the side walk."  
  
"Bye Mr. Johnson," said Natalie watching the old man take his dog to the park across the street. "Dylan has a roommate?"  
  
"That can't be," said Alex. "Dylan loves her privacy and with as messy as she is I don't know who would want to live with her." Natalie flashed her a look that said "Be nice."  
  
"You know I love Dylan but she wouldn't be the easiest person to live with." They walked up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall to apartment 10B. Alex knocked on the door. There was no answer.  
  
"I didn't see her car out front maybe she isn't home," said Nat with a shrug.  
  
Alex knocked again a bit louder, "Maybe but I hear music inside." Just then the door opened and the young woman that old Mr. Johnson described stood there.  
  
"What do you want," she asked nastily.  
  
Natalie smiled her thousand watt smile and said, "Hi, we are looking for Dylan is she home?"  
  
"Dylan who? Jeff," she called to someone they couldn't see. "Do you know a Dylan?"  
  
"No. Who's at the door babe," call a man, presumably Jeff back to her.  
  
"We don't know a Dylan," said the young woman trying to shut the door but Alex was quicker and inserted her foot. "Dylan Sanders she lives here. About five foot five, red hair, green eyes. Sound familiar?"  
  
"Actually she doesn't. I moved in just a few hours ago and I am renting this place from a woman with black hair, rather gothic looking, what was her name?" The woman scratched her head much the same way Mr. Johnson had done a few minutes earlier. "Jeff do you remember the woman's name who gave us the key yesterday?"  
  
Jeff then emerged wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist. Natalie eyed him appreciatively. "What," he asked his girlfriend.  
  
"The woman who gave us the key, you know the one you said reminded you of Morticia with a page boy cut, what was her name?" The couple looked at each other then Jeff snapped his fingers, "I've got it. Lucinda."  
  
"Lucinda? No, it was something else similar," said his girlfriend. "Lucille? No, wait it was Lucrezia. I don't remember her last name though but it wasn't your friend Dylan. Are you two sure you have the right place?"  
  
Natalie and Alex looked at each other. "Pretty sure. And your name was," asked Alex.  
  
"Oh I'm Alantra. Just Alantra. You can't have more than one name if you want to be a star."  
  
"Thanks Alantra," said Alex grabbing Natalie's arm and leading her down the stairs. Once they got back to the car she said, "I feel like I just stepped into the twilight zone. Why was it that only Mr. Johnson made sense? If it wasn't for him I would have sworn that Dylan never lived there, just Hyundai girl."  
  
"Lucrezia? Strange," was all Natalie said a thought tugging at the back of her mind like the beagle did on the leash. "I still want to know what happened to Dylan and what Charlie isn't telling us. Do you think Bosley knows anything?"  
  
"I doubt he knows any more than we do Nat. Let's hurry up, make our meeting with Mrs. Hardy and then we can worry some more about Dylan. The two angels got in the car and sped away.  
  
*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan arrived at her new apartment late in the afternoon. She wished she had an excuse to go back to her old place but she dropped off the key with the new tenant the day before.. She opened the door and went it. It wasn't her at all but she had to admit it was nice, much nicer than what she had just left. "Hello Dylan," said a voice from the living room. She turned and saw a man not much older than herself sitting on the white leather sofa. He wore a grey Armani suit that looked too big for him and she found herself comparing him to Anthony. Since the night of the ME2 Premiere she often found herself comparing men in suits to him. "I'm Agent Mitchum," he said coming towards her and holding out his hand. She didn't shake it so he put it self-consciously into his pocket. "I am glad you decided to help with this assignment. Charlie highly recommended you."  
  
"Charlie is a great boss," she said looking at the man in front of her.  
  
"Well," he began awkwardly, "Here is your new ID; driver's license and passport. You are now known as Lucrezia Danress. Your history is in the folder on the coffee table. You might want to look it over and memorize it. These men you are going up against won't go easy on you if they learn you aren't who you say you are."  
  
Dylan stood there not saying anything. She was a bit angry that she couldn't tell her friends what she was doing and she missed her car; it might not have been the nicest or newest in the world but it was her baby.  
  
"I still think you would be better off dying your hair. If that wig falls off, I don't want you to have any problems."  
  
"I won't," she said.  
  
"Good you do talk. Well Chief, he is the man you will be working for, has a stable of assassins. He is looking for two special ones for a client of his. This wasn't a problem before so we thought we found out what he was looking for in candidates but he threw us for a loop."  
  
Dylan sat on the couch her feet curled up under her, boots still on. "My God no," yelled Mitchum. Dylan quickly stood and got into defensive position. "No feet on the couch. If you can help it don't even sit on it. Everything here is for show purposes only." Dylan relaxed and looked at the man in front of her and lost her temper.  
  
"Listen, I don't mind doing this for Charlie; he has been a father to me, but if you expect me to give up my name, my friends, my apartment, my car and my hair color I'll sit on the damn couch if I want to and how I want to." She sat back down and laid on the full length of the couch, feet up.  
  
Mitchum glared at her. "I don't have time for you to be a brat."  
  
"Sounds to me like you have no choice so what was the loop that Chief has thrown at you?"  
  
"There is a competition. We have another person who will be competing too just in case you don't make it. You aren't to take him out. If you have to take a fall for him to get in to Chief's organization do it."  
  
"So you are saying you want me to take a fall for your guy," asked Dylan exasperated. "Why is it because I am a woman?"  
  
Mitchum eyed the petite woman in front of him wearing the page boy cut black wig. "Partially yes," he said and Dylan crossed her arms and made an 'hmmmp' noise. "And partially because this man is FBI. You'll be able to identify him from his eye patch and crooked nose. The crooked nose is real by the way, but we do have a good makeup artist making him look tougher. Anyone in this competition has to be tough."  
  
"I'll do just fine."  
  
"I hope so. I don't like the idea of sending a little girl in there," said Mitchum. Dylan was really starting to hate the agent. It was all she could do not to show him what a 'little girl' could do. "You are signed up already. You need to show up at this address tomorrow evening," he said handing her a piece of paper. "Don't lose it. That paper is your invitation you show up without it you aren't getting in. Good luck. I'll show myself the way out Lucrezia." With that he left her standing in the middle of her new temporary home.  
  
She unfolded the piece of paper. It was an e-mail someone, probably Mitchum, had printed. It simply read, "Date: September 23, 2004 Time: midnight Place: 2020 West Moreland Avenue. Dock 12, Warehouse 3." Tomorrow night she was going to the commercial port and she wondered why bad guys such as her ex-boyfriend O'Grady and this Chief liked places like that.  
  
Dylan sat back down on the white leather sofa as the phone rang. "Damn! Where is the phone in this place?" She found it on the fourth ring hidden in the kitchen looking like a state of the art appliance that bore little resemblance to a telephone.  
  
"Hello?" she answered.  
  
"Hey Lucy," said the voice on the other end. It was Bosley. "How's it goin' girl?"  
  
"Hey Bos," she said feeling tears well up in her eyes. It hadn't even been a day yet and she missed him and the angels. "It sucks."  
  
"That bad? I could talk to Charlie."  
  
"No, don't. It would only make that prick Agent Mitchum, think that I can't do this job."  
  
"Did he say that? Maybe I'll have to give him a good talking to. Tell him he can't treat my Dylan that way."  
  
Dylan laughed. It was nice knowing that Bosley was there for her. "Don't worry Bosley; I can take care of him and anything he throws my way. How are Alex and Nat?"  
  
"Worried about you. Charlie told them today that you quit and didn't want to be contacted. They took it bad."  
  
"I figured they would," said Dylan jumping up and sitting on the kitchen counter. As she did so she thought, "Take that Mitchum."  
  
"If you need anything let me know 'kay," he said sounding concerned.  
  
"Just my old life. It was hard enough going from Helen Zaas to Dylan Sanders but now Dylan Sanders to Lucrezia Danress. I liked Dylan, I don't even know who Lucrezia is," said Dylan tears flowing freely now.  
  
Bosley shushed her and said, "She is you. Don't you forget that and when you go back to being Dylan again we will all be here waiting for you."  
  
That made Dylan smile. "I love you Bosley," she said sniffing away the last of her tears.  
  
"Love you little sister," he said then hung up. Dylan did too then decided to explore and get herself acquainted with Lucrezia "Lucy" Darness' life. 


	3. Insomnia and Attacks

*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony woke up drenched in sweat. He had the dream again. He hadn't had it in months and he thought that he was over it but apparently not. It always started the same way, he was in McCadden's living room, smoking and watching as McCadden and Woods teased the redheaded angel who wore nothing but a sheet. Back then he couldn't have cared if she lived or died. He just did his job and so long as he got paid that is what counted. In this reoccurring dream of his he did care. McCadden shot the angel out the window but instead of walking off with them he went and tried to help her. As he pulled her back up into the house the scene transformed to that of the rooftop. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, and O'Grady stabbed him with his own sword, but as he fell the angel fell as well wearing nothing but the sheet. He always woke up just as he saw her hit the pavement broken, next to him. He always woke up panting out of breath and still feeling her lips on his.  
  
He climbed out of bed and got himself a drink of water. The dream still haunted him and he knew the only thing that would make it go away. He went over to his desk, opened the top drawer and removed a lock of titan hair that lay in-between the scissors and the stapler, tied with a blue velvet ribbon. He had fallen off the roof with that same lock of her hair clenched in his fist. He inhaled its faded scent. While it didn't smell of the shampoo she used anymore it still smelled of her own unique fragrance and it was enough to get him through the night and hold the bad dream at bay.  
  
He went back to bed the hair still in his hand. He wondered, like he did on the nights when the dream came, what she was doing. He wondered if she ever thought of him. He even wondered if he would ever see her again and as he drifted off to sleep he somehow knew for certain that he would.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Across town in an unfamiliar beach front apartment Dylan was also having a hard time sleeping. She never thought she would say it but she missed the sound of Old Mr. Johnson's dog whining to go out, and the strange woman next door whose apartment always smelled of burnt toast, the scent of which often drifted under the door and through the walls. The mattress of the bed in the new apartment was too soft and she couldn't get comfortable. The thought of Mitchum telling her she couldn't sleep in the bed because it was for show only made her giggle. If it hadn't made her giggle it probably would have made her cry. Crying was something she didn't plan on doing again on this case, Lucrezia was not a crier.  
  
But it wasn't the loss of her old mattress that made it hard for her to sleep it was the job. She realistically knew that she could do the job, Charlie wouldn't have recommended her if he hadn't thought so. Dylan was just used to being part of a team; she was Moe to their Larry and Curly, although she doubted that Alex would like being Curly. She was the little pig who built his house of straw to the brick and stick pigs. Okay, she was bad at knowing famous trios but she wasn't used to working alone without back up. At least without back up she could trust. Mitchum had made reference to his FBI contact there but she doubted she could count on him if the going got tough.  
  
Getting out of bed she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot mint tea. She had seen a box of tea bags in the cupboard earlier and figured she couldn't make too much a mess with it. Then again maybe those were for show too, but she didn't give a damn.  
  
As she stood at the counter she absently played with the gold medallion around her neck and her thoughts drifted to Anthony. She hadn't thought about him much lately she realized as she twisted the chain back and forth. Right after that night, the night of HALO, she thought about him often. The police had said that there was only one body found and it had been identified as Seamus O'Grady by the tattoo across the back which read, "Only God May Judge Me". Dylan hated to be cruel but his passing caused her enormous relief. She didn't know how Anthony could have possibly survived, but it was possible he had wandered off and expired elsewhere. Still she for months held on to the fantasy that they would cross paths again while working a case. After time she began to think on other things and he slowly slipped from her mind except on quiet nights when she had nothing to do except think, like this one. Now feeling dreadfully lonely she thought of him and wondered if he were still alive would he be lonely and thinking of her too.  
  
The whistle of the tea kettle brought her back to reality. She poured the boiling water over the white bag and cursed as the string with the tab slid down into the slowly coloring water. After waiting the appropriate amount of time she removed the bag with a spoon and carried the cup into the bedroom. On her way through the living room that is when she saw the reflection in the window; that of a man wearing a dew rag and raggedy jeans. She didn't think he noticed her noticing him so continued into the bedroom, and set the cup of tea on the dresser. She had the element of surprise and intended to use it for all it was worth.  
  
The bathroom that was connected to the bedroom had a second door which as luck would have it lead to a small hallway. That hallway would place her right behind the guy that she spotted, assuming that he hadn't moved. She turned the water on in the bathroom as she passed through hoping he would think she decided to shower, and carefully unlocked and opened the second door, closing it behind her. Dylan edged along the wall until she arrived at the open living room. The man was now staring at his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace so she took the opportunity to attack.  
  
He barely knew what hit him. As the stranger stood preening he suddenly noticed in the mirror a small form with its foot out speeding towards him through the air. He turned and yelled, "Shit," as the foot made contact with his chest sending him backwards into the mantelpiece. He didn't know who the girl was, she didn't look like the pictures of the Darness woman he had but she was apparently a fighter. He'd give her a fight.  
  
The two circled each other like vultures, finally he attacked. Just what Dylan had been waiting for, two kicks to the knees, a good punch to the stomach and a roundhouse kick to the face while he was down and out like a light he went. Dylan quickly found an extra long extension cord which she used to tie the man. She searched him for ID and found a California driver's license. She went to the kitchen and stood so she could still see the man's unconscious from on the living room rug and called Mitchum's number.  
  
"Hello?" answered a drowsy voice from the other end.  
  
"Mitchum, its Lucrezia."  
  
Mitchum sat up in his bed, "What's going on?"  
  
Dylan in her kitchen twisted the gold chain of the medallion around her finger. "I was just attacked. The guy is down and out cold in the living room."  
  
"Who was it do you know," he asked turning on the light next to his bed.  
  
"According to his driver's license his name is Joseph Lucco. Does the name ring any bells?"  
  
"Joey Luck is what they call him. You're lucky to still be alive. He is one of the Chief's best assassins. Do you remember the Greek shipping tycoon who died six months ago," he asked her.  
  
"Yeah, I thought he had a heart attack."  
  
"That's what the press was told to say. He was a Joey Luck hit. His heart was attacked by a single shot at close range. All the tycoon's body guards were taken out as well. Keep him restrained. I'll have a team over there to take him into custody. Oh and Lucy,"  
  
Dylan rolled her eyes she hated being called Lucy. "Oh and Lucy," he repeated. "Good job but think about dying your hair. You know now how dangerous these guys are." Then the line went dead.  
  
Dylan went back to the bedroom and retrieved her lukewarm tea and sat on the white couch waiting for Mitchum. "I wonder what he'll say about Joey Lucks blood all over the white carpet," she thought.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The stranger watched the Thin Man. The stranger had been watching the Thin Man all day and before that he had heard all sorts of rumors about the silent killer. The most predominant of which was he was a vampire. It didn't matter to the large bulky man who stood in Anthony's apartment that it was night and Anthony was sleeping in a real bed and not a coffin, he believed anyone that strange had to be a vampire. He knew the stories that the Thin Man came from Romania and that is where vampires were from right? So in the Stranger's not so bright mind the connection was made and thus he stood there slightly nervous, wearing garlic and carrying a wooded stake which he planned to impale the man on. The Stranger wasn't sure it would work. He had heard rumors that Seamus O'Grady had run the man through the heart and Seamus died while the Thin Man lived, but just in case the stranger was prepared, he also had a gun loaded with silver bullets; never mind that they were legendarily for werewolves. The stranger stepped closer to the bed and the sleeping form of the Thin Man.  
  
Anthony's nose twitched. He had been having a lovely dream about Dylan and his mother, and suddenly he smelled garlic. In his dream he leaned over and sniffed Dylan's hair and she reeked of the pungent bulb. "This wasn't right," he told himself in his dream, "someone is in your bedroom." Anthony woke but lay still with his eyes closed. He heard the floor board squeak. Only one in the bedroom did that, it was about three feet from the head of the bed, left side and from the note it made he could tell whoever was standing there was a large man. He kept his breathing slow and steady as not to alert the stranger in his bedroom. Part of him wished that his sword was handy, it would be over with much quicker that way but hand to hand he could do as well if necessary.  
  
The Stranger stepped closer to the bed and lifted the stake over his head brought it in a downward arc expecting to meet the resistance of the Thin Man's ribcage. Instead halfway through something blocked his arm. The Stranger opened his eyes and looked down to see what happened. The ice cold blue eyes of the Thin Man stared back at him glowing in the moonlight that streamed in the window. The Stranger struggled and tried to move his arm but the Thin Man was holding it stopping him from completing his death blow. He was astounded at the silent assassin's strength. As he began to reach into his pocket for the gun the assassin kicked him in the stomach and sent him across the room.  
  
Anthony jumped out of bed and grabbed his sword. He held the blade at the Strangers throat. "Hey man," the Stranger said, "You don't want to kill me." Anthony just arched an eyebrow with a look that said, "Really."  
  
"Really," said the larger man sprawled on the pine board floor. Anthony used the tip of the sword to signal he wanted the man to remove his hand from his denim jacket. The Stranger started to but Anthony saw his hand move under the cloth as though he were grasping for a weapon. In one smooth movement the sword penetrated the back of the man's hand and the man screamed.  
  
Anthony gave him a look that said, "Why did you make me do that."  
  
"Please," begged the stranger, "Please don't stab me no more. Let me have my hand back. I'll leave the gun."  
  
Anthony wasn't one to believe him but he relented and pulled the bloody tipped sword out of the man's hand. The stranger pulled his hand out of his jacket and looked at it. Blood ran down the palm like stigmata. "Shit, you asshole you, poked a hole in my hand and I can't move it."  
  
Anthony shrugged. "I'll get you," the man cried jumping to his feet and attacking him. Anthony fended off the attack then the man who must have gotten movement back into his hand reached for the gun again. Anthony took a step forward, parlayed and the sword went effortlessly through the Stranger's arm between the two bones, out the other side and through his shirt, past the skin and into his heart. The Stranger gasped and hissed the word, "Vampire," as he fell dead to the floor.  
  
Well no sleep tonight, decided Anthony as he loaded the dead man into the trunk of his jet black BMW Z4. He took the body to the dump, where all the trash goes and left it but not before looking at the man's identification. He had just been attacked by Manfred Sayer, aka the Big Man one of the Chief's goons. He wondered if he was the only one receiving a visit that night. 


	4. Bodies

The grunting and muffled yells of Joseph Lucco aka Joey Luck, woke Dylan who had fallen asleep on the couch. "Damn," she yelled sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She looked at the clock it was seven in the morning and the sun was up but no sign of Mitchum. She went into the kitchen and picked up the phone and called the FBI agent's number. He answered on the second ring. "Mitchum."  
  
"Agent Mitchum, Lucy here," she said angrily. "I just woke up and saw that there is a man by the name of Joey Luck still bound and gagged in my living room. I thought you were coming by to get him."  
  
"I am Dyl..Lucy, on my way now, but we had a problem. Right after you called a homeless man found the body of another of the Chief's assassins at the dump; a guy known as Manfred 'Big Man' Sayer."  
  
"I've heard of him," said Dylan hoping up on the counter top.  
  
"I figured you would have. He didn't die pretty. There was lots of blood. Look I'll give you the details when I get there. Meanwhile don't go near Lucco. I'm bringing back up and we will take him away." Mitchum hung up before she could tell him about the rug.  
  
"Oh well," she thought, "just another surprise for him." She took a shower and placed the black wig on her head. It really did make her look like another person. She flipped thought the closet and learned that Lucrezia obviously lived in a black, white and metallic world. All the furniture in the apartment was white with chrome trim but all the clothes were black except for a few white cotton and silk shirts. She smiled as she thought to herself, "Must be standard high class assassin clothing. Anthony must have done this every morning. It certainly does make getting dressed easier if not duller," as she pulled a pair of black pants with flared bottoms and one of the crisp white shirts off the hanger. She decided it needed a little something so she tied it at the bottom. "I feel so Audrey Hepburn," she said to herself looking in the mirror then added Alex's suede boots.  
  
The door bell rang. She cautiously looked out the peep hole it was Mitchum and a two other men so she opened the door. "Hey," she said.  
  
"Lucy, Agents Daniels and Miller," said Mitchum going inside and scanning the premises. Daniels and Miller politely nodded. "So where is he?"  
  
"Living room," she said and followed the three men. Joey started yelling though the gag again when he saw them. "Sorry about the rug," Dylan said sheepishly.  
  
Mitchum just glared at her. "Daniels, take the garbage out," he said waving to the bound man on the floor. "Miller, call for a steam cleaner." Miller nodded and pulled out his cell phone. "I thought I told you this place is for show."  
  
"Well obviously you didn't tell him that before he broke in here. I did what I had to do and if there was a little blood."she tried to continue but Mitchum cut her off.  
  
"A little blood? It looks like you slaughtered a cow!"  
  
Dylan smiled, "Well at least you know I can do the job."  
  
The agent had to relent and admitted that he had doubts about her. "Yeah you can do the job, but should it come down to you and our agent at the competition tonight I still want you to go down. Got it? Anyway sit. I need to tell you about 'Big Man'."  
  
Dylan sat on the couch and folded one leg underneath her. Mitchum didn't say anything; he just glared at the angel. "Okay so right after you called I got dressed and left to come over here. On the way I received a call from the LAPD, about the discovery of a body at the dump. I didn't think it had anything to do with men or this case until they told me that it had been identified as Manfred Sayer, the Big Man. He had interesting wound that had the homeless man who found him declaring that the body was Jesus." Dylan didn't say anything she waited for him to finish the story. "He had been stabbed through his right hand with what we think was a long narrow dagger. He had another mark similar about four inches above his wrist that went straight though his arm and one that matched in his chest. The homeless guy obviously compared his wounds to that of the crucifixion. What we are going on the theory that these guys, Sayer and Lucco were out to eliminate the competition."  
  
"Why," asked Dylan.  
  
"Why? Because they are dangerous assholes I guess," replied Mitchum.  
  
"No, why would they have to eliminate the competition. Last night you said that Lucco was part of the Chief's 'stable' already. If he was in then why kill the competitors?"  
  
Mitchum looked at her like she had said the dumbest thing he had ever heard, "Because they want the big job. The Chief doesn't think those he has are good enough; they are insulted so if they eliminate the competition then they prove that they are the best. Here," he said handing her a piece of paper. "I printed this out last night from the office. You need to see this."  
  
Dylan unfolded the piece of paper he handed her. On it was the same email that the Thin Man had received. It told that the competition was no to the death but anything goes along with the list of competitors. "Why don't you take the list of competitors and see how many are still standing after last night," she asked.  
  
"Already did that," he answered smugly. Dylan disliked him more and more but had to admit that he was good. "Out of the sixteen on the list only half are still alive or not in the hospital with serious wounds. I would think it would make tonight's job easier but now since they did manage to survive the attack I would say you are up against the best of the best."  
  
Dylan looked at the paper and wondered if that was a good thing and said, "I guess that would make me one of the best of the best."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
At nine on the dot the two remaining angels and Bosley sat down and waited for Charlie's morning call. It wasn't like his calls to be late but Natalie and Alex knew something was going on. "Bosley," said Alex sweetly.  
  
Bosley held up his hands to fend her off, "Whatever it is you want the answer is no, Charlie wouldn't like it."  
  
Alex and Natalie exchanged looks and Alex continued. "Come on Bos. Where is Dylan? We went by her place last night and she had moved out. You can tell us what is going on."  
  
"Yeah, Bosley," said Natalie starting in on the poor man as well. "If Dylan is in some kind of trouble we can help her."  
  
Bosley looked at the two girls and jumped off the couch. It was hard. They could break the toughest man; he hadn't a chance with them. He briefly considered telling them but didn't have a chance as Charlie's voice rang through the room from the white speaker box.  
  
"Good Morning Angels."  
  
"Good Morning Charlie," they said in their duet.  
  
"I want to save the Hardy case until later. First off I want to discuss replacements for Dylan."  
  
"Man he is good," thought Bosley to himself, "He is really playing up that Dylan isn't coming back."  
  
"We have several candidates, Bosley will you turn on the monitor?"  
  
Alex scooted forward on the couch and said, "I don't think we should replace Dylan yet. I think we should give her a chance to think this over. Let us talk to her Charlie and she will come back."  
  
Although she couldn't be seen Natalie nodded enthusiastically.  
  
Charlie gave a tired sigh. "Angels you have to accept that Dylan has moved on and we have to as well. If it makes you girls feel better we don't need to hire a replacement right a way but I would feel better if we decided on someone. Let's look at the candidates and you tell me what you think.  
  
After their morning meeting with Charlie, Natalie and Alex left the office together. "You know I've been thinking about that Alantra woman in Dylan's apartment. I'm going to check her out," said Natalie. "There was something about her. I know I know her from somewhere."  
  
"Good idea. I think I'll see what I can find out about Lucrezia. I hope she isn't also a one name actress. I'm going to drag Jason out and we'll check out some of the clubs in Hollywood. They said she was rather 'gothic' looking so I think I can find her. Or at least get a lead on where she might be."  
  
Natalie leaned over and hugged her friend, "You know I hope Dylan is alright."  
  
"Me too but she is pretty tough. Whatever she is up to I don't think Charlie would let her do anything that would get her hurt. I just hope we can keep putting off this case for Mr. Hardy long enough to locate Dylan." Then the two women separated, got into their respective cars and drove off to look for their lost angel.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
As nine in the evening approached Dylan started feeling apprehensive. Maybe she wasn't cut out for a solo mission like this. She needed to talk to her friends so she picked up the phone and called Bosley. There was no answer at the office so she called Mama Bosley's number.  
  
"Bosley residence," the older woman answered.  
  
Dylan swallowed hard and asked for Jimmy afraid if she called him Bosley his mother might recognize her. "Can I tell him who is calling?"  
  
"Lucy," she said with a hint of hesitation. From her end of the phone she heard Mama Bosley set down the receiver and yell, "Jimmy get your butt out here. You've got a phone call from a lady friend. .Who? Says her name is Lucy." Then she heard Bosley running to get the phone.  
  
"Hey how's it going," he asked.  
  
"Not good. I am so nervous, but I can do this right? Charlie wouldn't have sent me in if I couldn't."  
  
"Of course you can do it. You're tough and smart and can take anything thrown at you." His comments made Dylan feel better, not so alone. "Thanks Bos. That's what I needed to hear. I hope this case is over soon. I can't wait to come home."  
  
"We can't either. Oh," said Bosley dropping his voice so Max and Mama couldn't hear, "Alex and Natalie aren't giving you up without a fight. They don't believe you really quit and I have a feeling they are looking for you."  
  
There was a knock on Dylan's door. She glanced at it then said into the phone, "Thanks again Bosley. Look I have to go. I hope to talk to you again soon." But she was thinking she hoped to be alive to talk to him again. "Bye Bos."  
  
"Bye Dy-Lucy." As he hung up the phone he never noticed that someone else hung up before him Max had listened in on the extension.  
  
Dylan hung up the phone and answered the door. Outside stood Mitchum and one of the two men that had been with him in the morning, Dylan thought his name was Daniels and a woman.  
  
"We tried calling where were you" demanded Mitchum in his obnoxious way.  
  
"I was on the phone. Wait, don't tell me the phone is for show and I shouldn't use it," she replied sarcastically.  
  
"Actually yes, but you can in an emergency," he said seriously. "We got a busy signal and thought one of Chief's men may have come back."  
  
"I'm fine. Nervous but fine."  
  
"Nervousness is okay just don't show it. Here's the deal, normally for something like this you would wear a wire but you are going to be checked when you go in so we have this, state of the art microphone. These are brand new just issued to us at the bureau last month," he said handing a small white cap to her.  
  
"Oh I know these," she said enthusiastically, "It's a molar mike," and she placed it on her back tooth.  
  
"You know these," asked Daniels surprised.  
  
"Yeah Charlie has had these babies for the last five years." For some reason the small familiarity of the mike made her feel more comfortable than she had in the past two days.  
  
"Ok Lucy, we are going to stay with you following you all the way to the docks. Our agent inside." started Mitchum.  
  
"The one with the crooked nose right," asked Dylan interrupting and heading into the bedroom to change.  
  
"Yeah him, we want him to go in first. Once he is in place we will send you in. Try to be natural there.well as natural as you can be. as assassin-like as possible. This," he said signaling to the woman who had arrived with them, "is Agent Matthews."  
  
"Nice to meet you," said Dylan shaking the woman's hand.  
  
"Likewise," said the woman with a smile.  
  
"Agent Matthews is here to assist you in getting ready, choosing and appropriate outfit, you know the usual."  
  
Dylan nodded sagely, "The usual."  
  
Agent Matthews placed her hand on Dylan's shoulder, "Show me the bedroom and I'll transform you into your character." The two women went into the bedroom.  
  
"Relax Dylan," she said smiling. "I'm not Mitchum. I know he can be an ass but he is a good agent. And I'm calling you Dylan and not your code name because I know you are nervous enough without me calling you a name that isn't yours."  
  
"How did you get on this case," Dylan asked.  
  
"Take off the wig." Dylan complied with Matthews' request, "I've been working on this case for a year now. Okay into the bathroom we are dying your hair."  
  
"No," said Dylan firmly.  
  
"Fine if I had hair that color I wouldn't want anyone to touch it either. We'll work with the wig and make it stay on." Matthews went to the closet and flipped through the hangers. "All black," she said more to herself than Dylan. "I know that you want to know everything about this case but let me say that I can't tell you. This role you are playing is very important and tonight is only a small part. What is going down could upset the course of the US for a long time; that is all I can tell you." Matthews pulled a shirt out of the closet then opened the other side and looked for something in the way of pants. "Here," she handed Dylan the shirt, "Put this on."  
  
"That important huh," Dylan asked as she pulled the top over her head.  
  
"Very. There are a few things you need to know that Mitchum doesn't even know. The first is don't trust the guy he is sending in. I have a feeling he has been bought off. Second.ah perfect," she pulled out a pair of pants, "try these. Second you don't have to be anyone else. Just go in there and be yourself. I don't think you need to change your personality, your name and your look. Plus the look change will alter little ways you carry yourself. But as an angel you probably know that."  
  
Matthews then walked over and looked in the jewelry box as Dylan pulled on the pair of pants. "Perfect," the female agent said to the angel and handed her a silver belly chain with a silver cat hanging off it. "You pick the shoes."  
  
Dylan looked through the several dozen pairs in the closet and pulled out Alex's boots. She wanted some part of her friends with her.  
  
Matthews moved her finger in a twirling motion, "Okay spin, and let me see you." Dylan did as she was told. "Has to go," said Matthews in a disappointed tone.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The gold necklace, it doesn't fit your new image. What is that anyway," asked the agent coming closer to look.  
  
"It's a medallion from the orphanage. I got it from a." she hesitated not quite sure how to refer to Anthony, "friend. He died a year ago." Matthews looked at the young woman in front of her.  
  
"Its obvious he meant a lot to you. Fine keep it, but if Mitchum complains though it goes. Now let's see if we can work on the wig." It took forever to get the wig just right and so a simple flip wouldn't cause it to fly off, finally they were ready to present Lucrezia Darness to the agents in the living room.  
  
Dylan walked out of the bedroom wearing skin tight black leather pants, and cropped black Lycra shirt with long sleeves that ended in flares. Her black wig was on and her green stone eyes of the cat on her belly chain shone in the halogen track lighting. "Do I look okay," she inquired of the two men. Daniels made an audible gulping noise upon seeing her and Mitchum just stared. It was one of those moments when she missed Natalie and Alex, being all women had its strong points.  
  
"Looks good," said Mitchum finally. If we leave now we can watch who shows up. As Dylan followed Mitchum and Daniels out the door Matthews handed her a black leather jacket and whispered, "Good luck." Dylan smiled she was going to need all she could get. 


	5. Trials

(the event timing may be a bit off but I think it works out ok anyway. Let me know if its too bad and if so ill go and swap a few paragraphs around.)  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Natalie scratched her head. She had gone over everything and Alantra the one named actress was exactly who she said she was. She had no criminal record and apparently didn't even know Dylan Sanders. Natalie had even gone over information about the woman's boyfriend, Jeff. Jeff King was apparently even a better citizen than Alantra. Another dead end and she was running out of ideas. She laid her head on the desk when she heard the office door open. "Dylan?" She asked excitedly jumping to her feet.  
  
"No, it's just me," said Max strolling in and plopping down on the couch. "There's a game tonight between the Yankees and Angels." He grabbed the remote and turned on the T.V.  
  
"Oh," said Natalie disappointedly sitting back down and looking over her information.  
  
"What's wrong," asked Max muting the TV and joining the blonde angel at the desk.  
  
"Dylan is missing. Charlie said she quit but Alex and I can't believe that. That isn't Dylan at all."  
  
"What do you mean she quit? She was talking to Bosley just today," said the boy as he reached into his backpack and produced a can of cola. "Want one," he offered.  
  
Natalie looked at him and he continued, "Bosley was talking to her today. She didn't sound happy but he seemed to cheer her up. Don't tell Bosley okay. I was going to call my friend Jamal and picked up the extension and heard the call."  
  
"What did she say," asked Natalie encouraging Max to go on.  
  
"Well it was weird. He was calling her Lucy and she was talking about a case that she was on. She didn't say much just that she was nervous." Max walked back over to the couch and sat down.  
  
"Did she say what the case was? Where she was," she said standing up.  
  
"Nope. Can I watch the game now?" He asked trying to look around her.  
  
"Yeah sure," she said moving back to the desk. She picked up the phone and called Alex.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Jason was surprised that Alex wanted to go club hopping but they hadn't had anytime together in ages. It seemed that he was always working on a movie or TV guest role and she was always on a case. He was also surprised at her choice of clubs. It was ten o'clock and they had already been to some of the biggest S&M and Goth clubs in LA. They would go in and as soon as he would start enjoying himself Alex would pull him out. It was getting annoying. "Can't we just stop and have a drink at the next place," he whined. "I'm thirsty."  
  
Alex looked at him and was about to answer when her cell phone rang. "Alex," she said.  
  
"Hi it's me," said Natalie on the other end her voice bubbly as usual. "I found something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We need to go to Bosley's."  
  
"Bosley's," she asked confused. "He knows what is going on doesn't he."  
  
"I think so. Max said." she started but Alex cut her off.  
  
"Max?"  
  
"Yeah Max, he's here at the office watching a baseball game. He told me that he overheard Bosley talking to her an hour or so ago," said Natalie.  
  
"Is he sure," she asked watching Jason sign an autograph for a passerby.  
  
"That's what I asked and he said he was. Meet me at Bosley's and I'll fill you in," said Natalie hanging up. Grabbing her purse and keys she headed out the door.  
  
Alex looked at Jason, "I guess we are going to have to call the night short; unless you want to come to Bosley's with me." She got her answer when he climbed into the car and buckled up and said, "Off to save the world."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The black FBI issue van parked down the street from the warehouse. They could see the building but couldn't be seen themselves. Mitchum sat in the driver's seat, Daniels was in the passenger seat and Dylan, once the van stopped knelt peering out the windshield between them.  
  
A large decked out Harley Davidson motorcycle roared past them. "Identify," said Mitchum to Dylan. She thought a second, "Ted 'the bear' Boggs, hired gun from San Antonio." Mitchum didn't say anything but Daniels said, "She's pretty good. Sorry," he blushed and corrected himself, "You're pretty good."  
  
"Thanks." Just then a dark Lincoln town car drove by and let a man out. He was well dressed in a white suit with a black shirt, a white fedora and long scarf. "Bruno Minnelli," she said identifying the man. "Mercenary from Rome and he usually works for that shady Italian politician," she snapped her fingers trying to remember his name. "Bertolli," she yelled remembering.  
  
"So you did read the papers in the folder," said Mitchum surprised.  
  
Dylan didn't justify that with an answer she just watched the next two candidates arrive and identified each for the agents in the van. "Him I don't know," she said a man arrived in a battered old Ford Festiva. Then she saw his profile. "He must be your guy."  
  
"How did you know that," asked Daniel surprised.  
  
"The nose. Once he turned to the side I could see.," Dylan broke off as a man climbed out of the black BMW Z-4 that parked near the gates to the compound. "It couldn't be," she said to herself as she watched the finely dressed man in a dark suit with a cane enter the warehouse.  
  
"And who was he," asked Mitchum concerned to his partner. Daniels checked the list. Daniels shook his head, and flipped through the file, "I have no idea."  
  
"What do you mean you have no idea," he demanded. Mitchum glanced at his watch, "Shit Dylan you need to go. The Chief won't let you in if you are late. We'll work on who that guy is and try to get word to both you and our agent." Dylan slid open the back door and jumped out. "Be careful," called Daniels to the angel. She just smiled and gave him as wave as she darted across the street.  
  
"You like her," said Mitchum in a matter-of -fact voice.  
  
"I do not," denied his partner.  
  
"You do."  
  
"Do not." Then men continued arguing well after Dylan went inside the building.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Once across the street she sauntered up to the doorman. He looked her over with skepticism, "Name he demanded." She rolled her eyes, reached into her top and handed him the piece of paper that served as the invitation. He took it from her and sniffed it. She was repulsed but she figured his actions were meant to intimidate her and after the guys she saw showing up tonight, the man at the door would be nothing more than a puppy dog. The doorman checked over the paper. "Miss Darness," he said stepping aside. Once she was in he entered as well and closed the door behind her.  
  
Dylan looked around the large empty room. There were a few boxes stacked in the corners. Perched on top of the crates were other men who must have been the ones Mitchum referred to as the Chief's "stable". The middle of the room was made into a boxing ring. On one side of the ring stood four men, on the other three, and the door man directed her to the three person side. She felt so tiny next to the other competitors. To her left was Jack 'the ripper' Patterson, a man of six foot four inches and in her approximation weighed minimally two hundred twenty pounds. She looked out of the corner of her eye to the man to her right and her heart stopped. It was him, the Thin Man, Anthony. He like the others stood facing straight ahead and not moving.  
  
A small, petite, she would even call him effeminate man stepped into the ring. He was dressed to the nines and made the Italian and Anthony look shabby. The man didn't say a word he just looked over the assembled group. They all waited in the silence. Dylan could hear her heart beat echoing in her ears. "I want to apologize," the man said in an almost female voice breaking the silence. "I heard that several of my personal killers attacked you last night. The ones that did have been taken care of." The man who stood in the middle of the ring like a small king was the Chief.  
  
"I can only hope that you will accept my sincerest apologies," the Chief said. As Dylan looked at him and didn't think he was as sincere as he claimed. "But now that is in the past and I would like to begin tonight's festivities." The men on the boxes and crates cheered. "The rules are simple. It's elimination. Each person will fight the person directly opposite the ring from them. Weapons are okay but no killing each other please. Blood makes me woozy. No going easy on your opponent," Patterson turned his head looked at Dylan and snickered as did several of the others. "Is there a problem Mr. Patterson," the Chief asked like a teacher to a naughty student.  
  
"No sir," replied Patterson.  
  
"Good. If I do see you going easy on an opponent you will both be eliminated." Another snicker arose from the group around the ring. "Yes, we have a woman with us this evening. If that is a problem for anyone please, leave now," the Chief said coldly his eyes scanning the group in front of him. No one moved and once again silence reigned. "Everyone has five minutes to warm up. The warm up time is over when the bell rings" Chief took a deep breath and then yelled, "Begin!"  
  
Dylan looked over her opponents as the warm up began. She watched several shadow-box, some did stretches, and some just stood looking bored. The she saw Anthony standing by himself away from the others watching in the same way she was. He pulled out a cigarette and leaned against a crate, the white smoke swirling around his head. When he was done he tossed the cigarette to the floor, grasped his cane at each end and jumped it a few times.  
  
"See you find our smoking friend interesting." Dylan startled and turned almost slugging the man only to find Boggs staring at her. She gave him a small smile and said, "People who kill themselves slowly always fascinate me." Boggs gave a hearty belly laugh. "That's a good one little lady, "he drew in his thick Texan accent.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Anthony watched the group of assassins as they warmed up. "So that is Lucrezia Danress," he thought as he eyed the young woman as he smoked his cigarette. She looked lithe and graceful compared to the clumsiness the men applying for the job displayed. He caught her watching him as well. She also looked a slightly familiar something about the small smile she gave Boggs when he spoke to her. He was sure he had seen it somewhere before. He had to admit so far he admired her for showing up; a woman working her way in a man's world. She even seemed to be at ease with Boggs who seemed more interested in her than in the competition. If nothing else maybe Boggs would get both of them eliminated. He grabbed his cane and jumped it a couple times and then the bell rang.  
  
"First in the ring," announced the Chief, "The Thin Man and The Vulture." The bell rang for the second time as the Chief sat in his throne high above the ring.  
  
Dylan watched as Anthony and the FBI Agent entered the ring. They were completely different in everyway. The FBI Agent was built a lot like Seamus O'Grady, she noticed and as they began fighting she noticed the difference in their styles as well. The agent or the Vulture as he was called here relied on street brawling technique while Anthony used his usual combination of sword and tae kwon do. The round didn't take long. Mitchum had been so concerned about her being taken out he hadn't considered the fact that his own agent wouldn't last two minutes in the ring. Two minutes into the round the Vulture was unconscious and Anthony was proclaimed the winner.  
  
The next two that fought, Minnelli and a man who was just known as John Doe and it was over just as quickly. Doe hitting the mat in a sudden thirty seconds after the round had begun. Dylan was surprised the well dressed Italian man was so fast. She had barely seen him move. Two of the Chief's henchmen entered the ring to remove the body. They looked at each other then one of them went over and spoke to the Chief. The Chief nodded solemnly, stood and said, his voice echoing through the large room, "I regret to say it appears as though Mr. Doe has a broken neck. We should all take the time to say a small prayer for his recovery." Dylan glanced around and noticed that everyone had their eyes closed and heads bowed. She noticed Anthony crossing himself and closed her eyes and crossed herself as well.  
  
She was up next against Boggs of all people. As they entered the ring he leered at her and the friendly disposition he had earlier when he had spoken to her left. His eyes seemed to glow with fire. She knew from reading the file Mitchum gave her that he wasn't called "the bear" for nothing. He was big and hairy, but his nickname came from the fact he was very strong and killed by crushing his victims in his bear like arms. She knew if he managed to grab a hold of her she was done for.  
  
They circled each other and he would lunge and she would step away. Tired of the dance she attacked and knocked him on his ass. He let out a terrible roar and a string of not so nice explicatives about her gender. She flew at him again and he rolled out of the way. She landed in a roll and stood back up but she wasn't fast enough. He wrapped his arms around her. "Want to give up," he said his hot breath blowing in her ear and assaulting her nose. He gave her a little squeeze.  
  
"Never," she grunted and with every ounce of strength she had she grasped one of his big beefy arms and turned throwing him over onto his back. With the air knocked out of his he lay there on the mat stunned. She walked over and placed the sharp heel of her boot into the indentation where his collarbones came together. Looking down at the man she smiled sweetly, "Want to give up?" He lay there defiantly so she put some more pressure on the hollow. "Do you want to give up or do I need to impale you on my boots? I borrowed these and I don't think my friend would like blood all over the black suede but I will if I have to."  
  
Boggs looked at her and saw the seriousness in her eyes. "Give," he said in barely a whisper. "They didn't hear you," said Dylan loudly.  
  
"I give up," he said louder the second time. She looked up at the Chief and he nodded.  
  
"This round goes to our young lady, Lucrezia Darness!"  
  
Dylan removed her foot from the man's throat and held out her hand, "No hard feelings." Boggs turned as the henchmen led him away and spat at her.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Alex and Jason pulled up behind Natalie's car. Natalie walked over and waited for them to get out. "Hey Nat, how you doing?"  
  
"Hi Jason," she said in her usual perky way, and gave him a quick hug.  
  
"Where's Dylan," he asked looking around for the red haired angel.  
  
"That," said Alex, "is what we are here to find out." With that she started up the walk, her boyfriend and Natalie in tow. "I love it when she acts tough," said Jason looking at Natalie. They reached the Bosley house and knocked on the door. They could hear Mama Bosley inside, "Jimmy will you get that? And tell who ever it is it's too late for visitors."  
  
"Will do Mama," said Bosley as he opened the door.  
  
"Evening Bosley," said Natalie, "Can we come in?"  
  
He opened the screen and let them inside. He was surprised to see them. It wasn't often that they came to his Mama's house. "We have a few questions," said Alex as she stepped inside. Bosley looked at Jason who shrugged his shoulders, "I'm just along for the ride."  
  
"The first one," continued Alex, "Is where is Dylan?"  
  
Bosely looked at both girls and said, "I don't know," but instead of a statement it came out as a question.  
  
"Max said you were in contact with her earlier tonight," said Alex  
  
Natalie then picked up where her friend had left off. "And he said that you were talking to her about a case and called her Lucy. Lucy like your sister who is having marital problems."  
  
Just then Mama Bosley stepped out of the bedroom wearing a blue mu-mu with hibiscus flowers on it and said, "I never had any girls what are you up to Jimmy?"  
  
"Go back to bed Mama."  
  
"Don't you 'go back to bed Mama' me young man. But I am going just because I'm tired and you kids have obviously something to talk about."  
  
Bosley sat in an arm chair. "Charlie is gonna kill me."  
  
"What is up Bosley?"  
  
"I don't know all the details. I just know that Dylan is on a dangerous assignment. She is working with some FBI guys. I really can't tell you any more except that Lucy is her code name and Charlie is worried. We both are, but you can't say anything. You just have to let her do her job."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The trials were just about over. Patterson had beaten his opponent and was starting his fight against Minnelli. Dylan looked over knowing that in a few minutes she would be in the ring against Anthony. He had lit another cigarette and was watching her. She could feel his eyes burning into her back. She tried to relax. She had fought him before she could fight him again. The key was to forget the kiss on the roof top. Of course he didn't have that memory distracting him but she knew that he had a weakness, the place where the sword penetrated his body.  
  
Once again Minnelli took his opponent down in an amazingly short amount of time. The crowd of the Chief's associates cheered. The man stood announced that Minnelli was again the winner and that she and the Thin Man would be fighting.  
  
She climbed through the ropes in her corner. He climbed through in his. They both walked to the center of the ring. Anthony looked at the young woman who was his opponent. There had been something about her that had bothered him the whole evening. Something about the smile, something about her way of fighting; then he saw it hanging around her neck. It was the medallion; his medallion. He held out his cane and lifted it from off her chest with the tip. Her green eyes met his icy blue ones and he knew that standing in front of him wasn't Lucrezia Danress but Dylan Sanders, the red- haired Angel.  
  
Once he noticed the medallion she knew she was in trouble. She should have listened to Agent Matthews but no, she had to be slightly rebellious. Hell her rebellious streak is what got her into this to begin with. She and Anthony couldn't stand there all night just looking at each other so she threw a punch. He ducked then retaliated. They had fought so often before that they anticipated the others moves.  
  
"Beautiful," the Chief said to his right-hand man. "Watching these two is like watching a ballet or synchronized swimming. Look at how they play off the other."  
  
"Are both out," asked the Chief's assistant.  
  
"No, let them go. They are both obviously trying. They just seem to be the same caliber. I like them. I just wonder if the client will, she is very picky."  
  
"Then you don't want Minnelli?"  
  
"I want to watch these two. I think I want these two against Minnelli at the same time. Yes let them go a few more minutes and then send Minnelli in the ring."  
  
"Okay Chief," said the man and went back down onto the floor.  
  
"This will be very interesting." The bell rang. Dylan and Anthony stopped and looked up at the platform where the Chief reigned over the proceedings below. Anthony's slicked back hair was no longer in place; he took one hand and moved it out of his eyes. "Minnelli," said the Chief's voice echoing. Minnelli looked up. "Into the ring, which ever one gets knocked down first is out. The last two standing are my champions."  
  
Dylan took a step backwards and watched Minnelli climb into the ring. She could hear Mitchum out in the van through her mike saying, "Shit she's done for now." She was tired but she wasn't done for, not yet anyway.  
  
Anthony looked at Dylan. She looked exhausted, her eye make up had run from her perspiration, and reminded him of a raccoon but a beautiful one. He wanted to know her story, why she was here. No doubt to stop what ever the job was they were trying for. He also wondered where her friends were. As he was thinking Minnelli attacked him. He stumbled but didn't fall. He fought back.  
  
Dylan watching the two men knew she should let them battle it out but she felt left out. She attacked the Italian who tried to retaliate but the Thin Man attacked him again. Even his speed which is what he prided himself on was not enough.  
  
"Perfect," chirped the Chief. "My champions are the Thin Man and the woman. Ring the bell Leon," he said to his right hand man. "Wonderful, just wonderful." 


	6. Surprises

The Chief came down off his perch and entered the ring. Dylan was distracted by Mitchum's voice in her ear, "Find out what the job is then get back to base. Understand?" Dylan didn't answer there wasn't time as she was surrounded by a crowd of the Chief's associates congratulating her. Suddenly a slender arm snaked around her waist, it was the Chief. He had one arm around her and the other around Anthony. "You two are fabulous, absolutely fabulous! Come, come I'll take you to the safe house."  
  
The Thin Man arched and eye brow but Dylan vocalized the question, "What? I thought I could sleep in my own bed after this."  
  
"I am not endangering my two best assets. You two made a lot of people very angry tonight. If you thought my men last night were tough..well let's just say you don't want to wake up with 'The Bear' hugging you. Come."  
  
They exited the building and got into the back a black stretch limousine that awaited them outside. In the van Mitchum jumped to life, "There they are follow the limo." Daniels rubbed his eyes, turned on the ignition and traveled a safe distance from the luxury car. "I didn't think this would get so complicated," sighed Mitchum. "Our guy didn't win. The angel is in there and I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
Daniels flicked on the windshield wipers, as it started raining. "She seems to be good at what she does. I think she'll be okay."  
  
"If she isn't you won't have to have to deal with Charles Townsend. He considers the girls he calls Angels his daughters. Would you like it if I convinced you to send your daughter into that.that snake pit?"  
  
"No, I guess not but I still think she will make it and get what we want."  
  
"You like her."  
  
"I do not"  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
In the limo the Chief offered his winners champagne. Both Anthony and Dylan declined. "Ah you fighters, always thinking about your bodies, and what nice ones they are," he said eyeing Anthony. Anthony glared at the small man seated across from him and pulled out a cigarette. "Ick! I have to ask you to refrain from that nasty habit while you are in the car." The Thin Man placed the cigarette back in the silver case. "It looks like Lucrezia is tired."  
  
Anthony glanced at the young woman next to him. Her head was thrown back and a snore escaped from her throat. "Can you please shift her so she isn't making that disturbing noise? We have quite a way to go to get to my home." Anthony tried leaning her against the door but it didn't work and soon she had snuggled herself up against his chest with his arm around her. He felt the black wig against the underside of his chin, it was obviously expensive made from real hair, but it was nothing like her own; the texture was coarser and it didn't have that smell that was uniquely Dylan. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some golden red strands, the same ones he had taken on the rooftop and ran it under his nose and down the side of his neck. Even though the strands were taken a year ago they were more the young woman next to him than the black wig she wore.  
  
"I heard about your fetish but to see it in reality, it's kind of creepy. Do you really rip it from the heads of your victims?"  
  
Anthony looked at the woman in his arms and nodded. "Why don't you take hers then?" He shook his head 'no'. "Isn't that sweet you don't want to wake her. Could it be that you LIKE her?" He would have gladly taken some but to do so would remove her wig and while he didn't need her ruining the job for him he was curious as to what she knew. He couldn't find that out if he blew her cover so he glared at the Chief with his icy eyes. "Okay Okay," said the Chief, "Put that look away, you could hurt someone with it."  
  
They drove until sunrise then the car pulled into a long drive way of a large white house with columns supporting the front porch. As the car came to a stop Dylan awoke. She couldn't remember where she was or who she was with, and found herself feeling worse than she had in ages. She ached allover from the fights the night before. She imagined she looked frightening too. She sat up and looked and saw she had been sleeping curled up her head resting in Anthony's lap. A warm blush crossed her cheeks. Anthony stirred and sat up straight. He looked at the angel looking at him and felt uncomfortable. He awkwardly reached over towards her. She flinched thinking he was going to pull her hair but instead he straightened the wig she forgot she was wearing. "Thanks," she mouthed to him silently.  
  
The driver exited the vehicle and opened the back door, the bright morning sun streaming in caused Dylan and Anthony to shield their eyes. "Chief, Sir," the driver said leaning into the car gently rousing his boss. The Chief then woke, "Oh we are here? Very well, bedtime. Jorge," he said addressing the driver, "take the lady and gentleman up to the rooms." Then he turned to his guests, "Give your clothes to the maid. She will see that they get cleaned up. Until then there are robes in the bathrooms. I won't be with you again until later this evening. Meanwhile make yourselves at home." With that he walked off to his own room and left them with the driver in a house which was every bit as flamboyant as its owner.  
  
Jorge took the two guests upstairs and gave them adjoining rooms. Dylan's was done in shades of red and gold, "Looks like a whorehouse," she said plopping down on the bed. With her tongue she tried to activate the microphone. "Mitchum? Daniels," she asked but there was no answer. Dylan only hoped that they knew where she was. She got undressed, removed her wig and turned on the shower. She sighed as the hot water pummeled her body easing her aching muscles. She noticed rainbow colored bruises forming on her abdomen where 'the bear' had squeezed her and a large purple botch where Anthony's cane had smacked across her thigh. "All in a days work," she thought as she shut the water off and carefully dried herself not to cause more pain then she had to. There was a knock at the door. Thinking it was the maid she wrapped her red hair up in a fluffy white towel, gathered her clothes in her arms and answered it.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Mitchum smacked his hand against the dashboard. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it," he yelled in frustration. "I can't believe we lost them. How the hell did that happen? Can you tell me Daniels? Can you because I'm going to have to tell Charlie that his Angel is missing."  
  
Daniels cringed at every "Damn it" that Mitchum yelled. He had followed the limo cautiously but some how it had vanished from their sight seventy five miles north of the Los Angeles City limits.  
  
"Do we still have radio contact with her," asked Mitchum.  
  
Daniels climbed into the back of the van and played with the equipment, "Nope nothing. Even the tracking device we planted on her is dead."  
  
"Can we tell where it cut out?"  
  
"Looks like the exact same place we lost sight of them. Sorry."  
  
Mitchum smacked the dash again, "Damn it! Okay turn around lets head back to LA and break the news to Charlie and Matthews. She is going to be even less happy about this than Townsend is."  
  
Daniels got back into the drivers seat and made a three point turn to head back to LA. He too was concerned about the Angel but not as concerned as he was about making Matthews happy. He smirked inwardly knowing how happy she would be now that Dylan Sanders was gone.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The angels arrived at the agency on time with Bosley in tow. They urgently wanted to speak with Charlie. The idea that they had sent Dylan on a separate mission and didn't tell them about it bothered them. It wasn't like Charlie. Alex and Natalie sat down on the couch and Bosley answered the ringing phone.  
  
"Good Morning, Angels," said Charlie's cheerful voice.  
  
The two young women looked at each other and said "Good Morning Charlie," but it wasn't their usual perky in synch reply.  
  
"Is something wrong," their boss asked.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us Charlie," said Natalie.  
  
"She is our best friend we had the right to know," said Alex angrily. "Bosley," said Charlie, "I am assuming that they know?"  
  
"Yeah thanks to my big mouth, I'm really sorry Charlie," said Bosley looking at his feet.  
  
"Before you get mad at Bosley it wasn't his fault. Max told us and we were investigating her disappearance anyway," said Natalie coming to their friend's defense.  
  
"I'm not mad at Bosley just disappointed, not only in Bosley but you two as well," lectured their boss as there was a knock at the door. "Bosley can you get that," asked Charlie.  
  
Bosley went and opened the door. Standing there were two men and a woman wearing suits; Mitchum, Daniels and Matthews. "Can we come in," asked Mitchum showing his badge with a flick of his wrist. Bosley stepped aside and let the three visitors in. Mitchum led the way into the main office.  
  
"Who is it Bos," asked Alex turning to see the three agent standing there.  
  
"Charlie, its Mitchum," said the lead agent.  
  
"Agent Mitchum, what are you doing here," asked Charlie confusion present in his voice.  
  
"We are here because we need more help. We lost the Chief and we lost Dylan," he said without hesitation.  
  
"How did that happen," snapped Alex.  
  
"Miss Munday," said Agent Matthews, "Please calm down." Alex shot the woman a burning look with her eyes.  
  
"Explain what happened," said Charlie.  
  
Mitchum rubbed his weary, stubbled face. "Everything was fine. She was doing great, she managed to win and get into the Chief's gang. Last thing we heard was the Chief congratulating her and the other winner. They got into the Chief's limo and we followed them. Somehow despite the empty roads and the tracking device on Dylan we lost them."  
  
"Who was the other winner," inquired Natalie.  
  
"We don't know. We thought we had all the competitors but this guy showed up," said Daniels.  
  
"Can you describe him," asked Alex adjusting her position on the couch so she could have a better view of the FBI agents.  
  
"Tall Man, thin, drove a black BMW z-4. It had plates but when we ran them the plate number wasn't registered. He dressed well and carried a cane." Alex and Natalie exchanged looks. "It can't be. Could it?" said Natalie.  
  
"We saw him fall off the roof. Seamus O'Grady landed on top of him. He couldn't have survived."  
  
"Who are we talking about," asked Matthews jumping into the conversation.  
  
"The Creepy Thin Man," said Alex to the woman as though she had missed the conversation entirely.  
  
"Okay," said Mitchum, "I give who the hell is the 'Creepy Thin Man'."  
  
Between the two of them Natalie and Alex gave the agents a bit of their history with the Creepy Thin Man starting at Corwin's party until the fight on the rooftop where they had assumed that the man had met his demise. "God this is worse than I thought. This guy could blow her cover. She saw him last night before she went into the warehouse and didn't say anything. What the hell was she thinking," exclaimed Mitchum pacing the floor.  
  
Once again Natalie and Alex exchanged looks and this time Matthews caught it. "Okay you two spill it."  
  
"They have sort of a thing," said Natalie not quite sure how to explain Dylan and the Thin Man's relationship, if that is what it could be called to the FBI:  
  
"A thing," asked Matthews contemptuously, "What sort of 'thing'?"  
  
"Creepy Thin Man has a hair fetish. He seems very fond of Dylan's hair in particular," said Alex. "And he did save her from O'Grady."  
  
"And they kissed," added Natalie, "but only once and it was before he fell off the roof and died."  
  
"Presumably died," corrected Alex.  
  
Again Charlie's voice emerged from the speaker. "The question is will he save her again if it comes down to that and will Dylan be able to take care of herself. I think the answer to the second question is a yes but as for the first who knows."  
  
"These men who tried out for the job were professional killers, Mr. Townsend," said Daniels, "He like the other contestants, went to the competition for the money that the job will bring. Even though Dylan is a pretty girl I doubt this guy will trade that amount of cash for her. Seeing that we must have been spotted in order for them to lose us we need to act as though Dylan has been compromised and assume that this Creepy Thin Man was responsible."  
  
"We should be trying to find out where they are and get her back if these people are as dangerous as you say," said Alex.  
  
"First we need to locate them," said Mitchum as they all missed the look that passed between Matthews and Daniels. 


	7. Q&A

Okay here we go with. Chapter 7 enjoy! I might post 8 later today once I get the bugs worked out of it (  
  
*-*-*-*-* Dylan opened the door and the Thin Man, Anthony stood there wearing a white bathrobe identical to the one she wore, his feet bare, and carrying his ever present cane. In his other hand he had a pad and a pen. He pushed her back into the room and onto the bed. He sat on the small stool that matched the vanity. "What are you doing," asked Dylan slightly taken aback that he was in her room.  
  
Anthony scratched out a note that read, "I could ask you the same thing."  
  
"Working," she answered defiantly. Although she wanted answers from him she wasn't going to reveal her hand if she could help it- not that she had much of one.  
  
Anthony looked at her trying to determine how much she already knew and when her friends would show up.  
  
"Aren't you going to say anything," she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her when she used the word 'say'. "Say, write, draw, aren't you going to communicate in anyway," she said correcting herself.  
  
"What is your job?" He wrote next showing her the pad.  
  
"Honestly, I haven't a clue." Once again an eyebrow went up. "Really I was supposed to be hired by this Chief guy. After that I would find out more and since I'm now here I guess I will find out more although not from the people who were suppose to tell me. Maybe you can tell me why I am here." She removed the white cotton towel from her head and vigorously dried her hair with it.  
  
He worked hard to suppress a smile at her rambling and tried to judge how much of what she had said was the truth and wrote, "For an assassination."  
  
"Whose?"  
  
Anthony was surprised she really didn't know why she was there, but it was his turn to ask a question, "Where are your friends?"  
  
Now it was Dylan's turn to try to determine how trustworthy he was and how trusting she should be. He tapped at the piece of paper tired of waiting for her answer. "On their way," she said lying. He didn't need to know that Natalie and Alex had no idea where she was.  
  
"Who exactly is the Chief," was her next question to him and it came as a surprise. He was starting to get worried. Someone, presumably the man she worked for Charlie, had sent her in to this and hadn't told her a thing. He simply wrote, "A man you need to be careful with."  
  
"Like you," she asked. He didn't react just watched her. "He didn't seem too tough," continued Dylan. "After those guys last night and Seamus O'Grady I doubt I'd have problems with the Chief," she said giving him an arrogant smile.  
  
Anthony stood to go but he had one last question. He stepped towards her and touched the medallion that hung from her neck then wrote, "Why?" So far that was the one that was the one thing she couldn't answer. How could she be honest with him when she couldn't even be honest about that with herself. So she looked at him and said, "Why not?" Then she reached behind her neck and fumbled with the clasp. Anthony shook his head 'no' and placed his hand on hers to stop her from removing the medallion. As she lowered her hands he reached out and grabbed one of her red-gold locks. A ripping sound filled her ears. "Ouch," she yelled rubbing her head. "Must you do that every time I think I might be starting to like you?" At that he smiled and left the room taking his treasure with him.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan was awoken by a persistent knocking at her door. She didn't have time to put on the wig so she wrapped her hair up in the towel from earlier that lay across the foot of her bed. She answered the door and the maid handed her the clean clothes. She tried to thank the woman but she scurried off. She went back inside and got dressed and placed the ebony wig on her head.  
  
When she was finished there was another knock at her door. She opened it to find Jorge the driver there. "Miss," he said giving her a small bow, "The Chief would like to see you now."  
  
Dylan shut the door to the room. Jorge led her down the winding marble staircase and down a long corridor. "Is the Thin Man coming," she asked referring to Anthony by the name he was called at the competition. Jorge said nothing until they approached a dark oak door at the end of the hallway. Once at their destination he opened the door and told her to go inside. She walked around the antique folding screen that blocked the door from the area near the desk. Anthony was already seated in one of the wing backed chairs in front of the large marble slab that made up the Chief's desk.  
  
"Miss Danress," said the Chief. "It is so nice of you to join us."  
  
She took the seat next to Anthony's. "As I was saying to your new partner in crime, there will be a lot of security around the target. Almost impossible to get close to him, but I have feeling that the two of you will work well together. I had that feeling from the moment you stepped into the ring together. The way you fought was melodic. Like the treble and bass lines of music, different but harmonious. Let me tell you I was truly impressed and that looking at the contestants last night you were the two I thought least likely to succeed."  
  
"Thank you," said Dylan interjecting, "but can we get back to the assignment." Anthony looked directly at her and from his stare she could tell she had goofed up. The Chief gave her a poisonous smile. "Well Miss Danress, I see you don't know the rules here yet so let me make myself clear. I am the Chief. You do not speak unless you are spoken too. I admire your fighting skill but I won't hesitate to kill you. Minnelli is still available should I need to replace you," he said coming around the desk and placing a dangerously sharp manicured nail against her jugular. "Am I understood?"  
  
Dylan didn't let her fear show, boldly she said, "Yes Chief."  
  
The Chief started laughing. "She is full of fire isn't she? If I liked women I would take to her in an instant. Now you wanted to know more about the job. You'll find out more soon. The client is coming in about a half an hour. I wanted to get to know you two. Anthony's reputation precedes him, but you Miss Danress are a bit of a mystery." The Chief watched her for a reaction. "May I call you Lucrezia?"  
  
"Lucy."  
  
"What," he asked.  
  
"Call me Lucy."  
  
"Wonderful! Lucy, that black hair of yours reminds me of the girl from the Peanuts comic strip. You have her feistiness too. So tell me about you where were you born? What did your parents do? Why become a hired killer?" The Chief sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his ankles and swung his legs back and forth.  
  
Anthony sat back watching her, his finger tips making a pyramid. He was interested in seeing how she would answer the questions posed to her. Dylan watched the two men and tried to recall her bio from the folder Mitchum had given her. She thought she could probably make something convincing up but decided the FBI must have given her the information for a reason. Taking a deep breath she began, "I was born in Lansing, Illinois. My father was a bookie and my mother worked as a maid in a hotel in downtown Chicago."  
  
"Why did you become a hired killer," the Chief asked again.  
  
The answer to that question had been in the folder but she couldn't remember it. Her mind was blank. "Damn," she thought, "why didn't I practice? Because I thought Mitcum was pompous and overbearing, that's why," she answered herself. She decided to give him the same answer she had given Anthony early when he asked her "Why" as well. She looked the small man straight in the eye and said, "Why not?"  
  
The room was quiet. None of them moved and finally the Chief busted out laughing. "You are wonderful! 'Why not?'" He slapped his knee and bent over holding his stomach. "I don't think anyone has given me such an honest answer before," said the Chief hoping off his desk. "Everyone always come here and when I ask that question they give me a "Miss America" answer: 'I hate my fellow man', 'I do it for my starving children', 'it's the family business', but you my dear are unique and gutsy." Just then a buzzer rang. "I have to step out of the room for a bit but will return shortly, make yourselves at home." The Chief was still shaking his head and laughing as he exited leaving Dylan and Anthony alone.  
  
Anthony scratched out a note and handed it to her, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"  
  
"No," she said angrily as he wrote some more.  
  
"You really don't know anything about this job do you? Who sent you in here blind," read the next.  
  
"Anthony," she said sweetly, "one would think you actually care."  
  
"I do, about the money." He wrote handing her the paper.  
  
"So you just don't want me to mess up so you get your money is that it," she asked and he nodded 'yes'. That 'yes' from him hurt her deeply but she didn't want to admit it. Why did she think he would care about her? She reprimanded herself mentally for letting his remark bother her and made sure it didn't show. "He's a killer Dylan that is what he does. He has no feelings. So what if he saved you from O'Grady that doesn't change who he is," were thoughts running though her mind.  
  
There were footsteps and voices in the hall. Anthony snatched the sheets of paper out of her hand and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket just as the door opened. The Chief held the door open as the person he was talking to rolled into the room accompanied by the hum of the motor of the electric wheelchair. Jorge appeared and moved the screen aside as the Chief said, "May I present you both with the person who hired us for this job," said the Chief. Dylan and Anthony seated in their chairs came face to face with their new boss. Both of them barely managed to suppress their surprise at recognizing the woman in the wheel chair, "Vivian Woods".  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Anthony," said Vivian, "well well, I wouldn't have thought that I would have the pleasure of working with you again." She looked Dylan up and down. Anthony didn't answer but only wondered how she managed to live through the explosion that had nearly killed both of them. "Still as quiet as ever," she said wheeling closer. "And who do we have here? A female hired killer?"  
  
Dylan looked at the broken Vivian Woods. She had felt as though someone punched her in the stomach when she found out Anthony was a live the night before but this was almost too much. Vivian Woods was alive; her once lovely face was severely scared by the burns she from the exploding missile. She still wore a plastic mask to help with healing her facial burns, the hair on her head was obviously a wig, her left hand was claw like stuck in a contraction caused by the fire to which she had been exposed.  
  
"This," said the Chief showing Dylan off like a "Price is Right" model would a refrigerator, "is Lucrezia Danress. She is an excellent fighter and I am sure she will be a marvelous asset to you."  
  
"Lucrezia, well aren't you attractive," she said with a spiteful tone. "Keep in mind that beauty won't last a life time. You should focus more on your mind like I do. That will last you much longer." Dylan relaxed a bit as she realized Vivian didn't recognize her. Vivian wheeled closer to them. "I suppose you want to hear about your mission. It's quite simple you just need to go in and kill the president of Codyne Industries."  
  
Codyne Industries was a manufacturer of nothing more than screws, rivets, nails and other assorted attachment paraphernalia. They had the world market cornered on the little pieces of metal they produced. Dylan wasn't sure why she was there. She was told by Matthews who supposedly knew more about this case than Mitchum that it would "upset the course of the US for a long time," but she didn't see what Donald Getty's death would have to do with that. She missed the angels. Normally one would know what the other two didn't; one would have an idea that would make everything fall into place. Right now Dylan felt like nothing made sense but she was in this now for the long haul until the FBI pulled her out.  
  
"You'll find the Mr. Getty's person schedule here," she said handing Anthony a manila folder. "I personally want this hit to be dramatic. Watched world wide so even if the populace doesn't know what is happening right away they will come to understand the importance." Anthony flipped through the copies of pages from Mr. Getty's date book and circled something with his pen. He handed the folder to Dylan who then looked at it. He had circled the thirtieth of September, the next day, the World Trade Conference in Chicago hosted at the Chicago Hilton.  
  
"I see you found a date already Anthony. I should have known you would work fast. What did you pick," asked Vivian.  
  
"The World Trade Conference, tomorrow in Chicago," answered Dylan.  
  
"I like it," said Vivian who started coughing violently. Suddenly a woman in nurse's uniform came into the room with an oxygen bottle and gave Vivian a sip of it. "In case you are wondering Lucrezia, you don't mind if I call you that do you," she asked, "I was nearly killed three years ago by a missile that was shot at me by my lover. It wasn't on purpose he was trying to kill some other people and unfortunately Anthony and I got in the way. How did you escape Anthony," she asked the quiet man seated to her right. Anthony met Vivian's eyes in defiance. "Oh yes," she said her eyes growing distant as she remembered that day, "as we rolled tied together in a rather thick iron chain it managed to unwrap from him first. Our rolling had kept the flames out but once we stopped I felt the first ones enter my hair. I couldn't even get my arms up to pat them out as they were pinned to my sides. I could see his suit jacket caught in the blaze and him drop to the ground to smother the flames then he got up and stood back to watch the flames consume me." She paused and looked at Anthony who betrayed not a trace of emotion. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't have gone back into the inferno to save you either. Do you have one of those cigarettes you always smoke?"  
  
The nurse who had been silent told her she should not with the oxygen in the room. "Then leave and take that damn oxygen with you. I want a cigarette," she snapped at the young woman who scampered from the room. Then more calmly, "It's been forever since I had my last." Anthony reached into his jacket and produced the silver case. He held it out to her and she took on with her good hand. "I couldn't smoke, well I could but I had such and intense fear of the fire. Light it for me will you?"  
  
Anthony patted himself down and couldn't locate his lighter. Dylan produced hers and lit the cigarette that Vivian held elegantly between her index and middle finger. "Let me see where was I," said Vivian as she inhaled deeply eyeing the lighter which looked somehow familiar to her. "The latex of my jumpsuit melted to my skin, it's still embedded there in various places not that you can tell the new skin as covered it pink and still very tender in places but that hurt more than the fire itself. Have you ever played with candle wax," she asked looked at Dylan.  
  
"Yes, I think most people have," replied the angel in disguise.  
  
"Some times it gets too hot and you burn your finger tips. The melted latex at that temperature is like the candle wax but ten..no a hundred times worse and you can't get it off, as your flesh melts it mingles together. I remember screaming and screaming and praying that I would die. Then I blacked out. I woke up in a hospital three months later and had no idea who I was. So now you know how I became disfigured." 


	8. A Call for Help

(Okay I admit it. I have never been to California so I used a road map to get the information I needed. I hope everyone likes this chapter.)  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Alex and Natalie were looking over the map for the hundredth time. "Okay Daniels, one more time. You said that your equipment managed to track them to here," with pink nail Natalie pointed to a place on the map where Route 99 connected with state road 198, "just north of Bakersfield. What then?"  
  
"Girls we have been over this again and again. Her tooth attachable mike went out; they are known to do that so we didn't worry because we had a tracking device on her. She was wearing a belly chain with a cat charm. The cat was the device. Then once we hit that point, yes 99 and 198, realized we couldn't see the limo and the tracking device was down."  
  
Max came into the room with a tray of drinks. "I thought you guys could use this," he said placing the tray on the table. "Where is the lady FBI agent," he asked.  
  
Rubbing his temples Mitchum replied, "She had to go over to the bureau and help another agent. She'll be back later."  
  
"So what you are saying then," said Alex still talking to Daniels, "Is that she could be anywhere."  
  
"Pretty much yeah, that's what I am saying. Listen I don't like this any more than you do. See seemed to be a nice girl. She was funny."  
  
"Don't talk like that," said Bosley angrily.  
  
"Don't talk like what," asked Daniels getting to his feet. They were all tired and had been trying to locate Dylan since the FBI agent had arrived at Charlie's that morning and now tensions were running high.  
  
"Like Dylan is past tense. She IS a nice girl and she IS funny. Don't use 'was'," said Bosley loudly. "That girl is like my little sister, all three of them are." His out burst was followed by a moment of silence. Each angel surprised that Bosley was taking it so hard, yet knowing they would be just as worried if it was him who was missing, as they recalled when Eric Knox had his brother.  
  
Natalie looked at Daniels. "I want to see your equipment," she demanded.  
  
"You want to what," asked Daniels in disbelief. Then he realized what she had meant and laughed. "Sorry too long on this problem. A sorry to you too," he said patting Bosley on the shoulder. "Sure come on out. I don't know what you think you will find out there but I'll show it to you," he said leading her out to the van.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The meeting between her, Anthony, and Vivian Woods, hadn't taken long. Vivian had given them and idea of what she wanted done and gave them free reign to do it. She only wished that Anthony would have consulted her before deciding to use Getty's visit to the World Trade Conference in Chicago tomorrow. That didn't give her much time. After the meeting she had gone back to her room and decided that she would have to act as though the FBI had no idea where she was and move on her own. This wasn't for show only this was for real and she had no intention on assassinating Donald Getty or letting Anthony do it either. She had noticed a phone on a sideboard in the hallway. "Maybe I can call out from there. Get a message to the Angels."  
  
Anthony paced his room smoking like a train engine. A white plume of smoke trailed behind him. "Vivian Woods is still alive," echoed through his head. Part of him felt guilty leaving her behind that day at the old mission but he had assumed she was dead and thought even if she wasn't she would have been better off that way. Then Dylan bothered him. He should just let her go down, tell the Chief and Vivian who she was. Then go assassinate Getty tomorrow in Chicago. She wouldn't be around to distract him and he could collect double the money. Then there was the other part of him that felt the need to play knight in shining armor with her. He didn't know why he felt the need to protect her; she was a tough young woman as she proved the night before. There was just something about her that spoke to something inside him that he thought died along time ago. He hated feeling conflicted and knew whichever way he decided to go pertaining to Dylan would affect his life forever.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Natalie and Daniels climbed into the back of the van so Natalie could look over the equipment. "Do you know how this works," asked Daniels skeptically.  
  
"Of course," said the perky blonde, "As she reached over and rewound the tape from the molar mike and with the other hand replayed the recorded coordinates point by point of the tracking device. They sat there in silence while Natalie listened to the fights and cheering Dylan on as she got to the ones she fought in. "Go Dylan, kick him. Watch out for the cane." She heard a loud smack and Dylan cry out from the cane against her leg. "I told her to watch out," said Nat laughing. Daniels just rolled his eyes. Finally they came to the last few minutes of speaking, the chief had asked the Thin Man not to smoke in the car.  
  
"See," said Daniels, "static. You can't hear a thing."  
  
Natalie listened harder and realized she could hear something. "We need to get this tape cleared up."  
  
"Why it's just static," the agent said, "white noise, nothing."  
  
"Trust me, something is there. Dylan's snoring is what is covering it up," she said giggling. Natalie rewound the tape popped it out of the recording unit and ran back inside to the agency, Daniels jogging close behind her trying to keep up. "Alex," she said breathlessly, "You have to clean this up."  
  
"You found something," said Alex excitedly.  
  
"Yep, the mike didn't go out. Well it might have but not for a long time. Dylan fell asleep."  
  
Alex looked at her and said, "Dylan fell asleep? Ohhhh! Dylan fell asleep," she said getting what Natalie was talking about.  
  
"I don't get it," said Mitchum. "I heard the static myself."  
  
"Dylan is a snorer especially when she is really tired," explained Natalie, "and after a competition like that she was probably beat. So on the way to wherever they were going she fell asleep and started snoring so the static sound on the tape isn't static but her."  
  
Alex continued, "We just got this great new software in the lab upstairs that will allow us to clean up the tape and analyze any background noise their might be. Pavement changes, weather conditions, whether or not they stopped for gas," said Alex.  
  
"Birds chirping," added Natalie.  
  
"Ok, but it's only a molar mike. It doesn't pick up those little nuances," said Mitchum. "It was a good idea though."  
  
"It's still a good idea because even though to our ears the quality is bad to the computer it isn't. And this program will make it as though we are in the car with her but blind," concluded Alex.  
  
"What the hell," said Mitchum, "Let's do it. If we can find anything on that tape that will give us the location I am for it." They all went upstairs to the lab. Alex put the tape in the deck and transferred the recording over to the computer. Focusing specifically on when the snoring started she began clarifying the sound.  
  
"Can you please shift her so she isn't making that disturbing noise? We have quite a way to go to get to my home," they heard the Chief say as the snoring was eliminated. They heard the rustle of someone moving, Anthony they presumed moving her, a small sigh, obviously Dylan and then a lighter snoring sound.  
  
"Ok removing the next layer of sound," said Alex. The all listened intently to light breathing and the hum of the car's motor.  
  
"There," exclaimed Natalie. "It sounds like an eleven horse power blower, for pavement work. Quick Bos, look up all the roadwork north of here and find out who was working.what time is on that section of tape," she asked Alex.  
  
"Five thirty am."  
  
"Find out who was working at 5:30am then we can narrow the search from there."  
  
"Got it," said Bosely working quickly. "There were two road crews that were supposed to start that early today. The one was working on Interstate 15 near Escondido."  
  
"That is south of here," said Alex.  
  
Bosley continued excitedly, "The other was on the 198 not far from Kings Canyon National Park."  
  
Alex looked at the state map and the area, "Here," she said pointing to a section of the map. I seem to recall some controversy about them putting up a cellular antenna there for the signals in that area. Its possible that the antenna is what cut the mike out at that point."  
  
"Can I see the computer for a sec," asked Mitchum. Bosley moved out of the way and let the man take over. Mitchum logged into to the FBI database and looked up all the information they had on the Chief. "The Chief has several houses in the state of California. He has one in Sacramento, one in San Francisco, one in San Diego, two here in LA, and one that isn't in a town but a large piece of land he bought near Kings Canyon."  
  
"That's it," cried Natalie. "Let's go in and get her."  
  
Max knocked timidly on the door, "Can I come in," he asked peaking his head into the room. "You guys missed a call. It was Dylan."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan crept down the hall towards the telephone and picked up the receiver. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the dial tone. She knew she wouldn't have long so she dialed the number for the agency and hoped that they would be there. The phone rang, and rang and rang on the third ring she heard, "Hello,"  
  
"Natalie its Dylan," she whispered.  
  
"You have reached the Townsend Agency. Now one is able to take your call at the moment please leave a message after the beep." Beeep! Went the machine.  
  
"Dylan here. WTC 9-30 Getty," she managed to say before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned throwing a punch which ran directly into Anthony's hand. He folded his hand around her fist and looked at her with hard cold eyes. With his other hand he reached around her and hung up the receiver.  
  
"Well," said the emasculated voice of the Chief from behind them. "I have to say I am very disappointed in you Lucrezia. House rule is no one uses the phone without my permission. I must ask you who called just now. I can trace it you know. Every call here goes through a special machine that disguises the number from the police just in case they try to trace the line. It also recalls all the outgoing numbers dialed. By the way Anthony," said the Chief practically hanging on the Thin Man, "good work, stopping the little tramp before she could cause damage. Or did she? So Lucy, love won't you tell me who you called?"  
  
Dylan looked at the two men not giving away anything. Jorge came up the stairs and gave a piece of paper to the Chief. He looked at it and made a "tsk tsk" sound. "I didn't think you would tell me. Part of Jorge's job when he isn't driving me or looking good," the Chief winked at the driver, "is security. As soon as a receiver is lifted a message is sent to an alarm system and my precious Jorge. This piece of paper tells me that you called 'Charles Townsend Investigations' and here I have the wording of the call. Would you like to hear it?" Dylan not answering swallowed and looked at Anthony. His eyes were cold and distant. "'Natalie its Dylan', here you had to wait for the machine, 'Dylan here, WTC 9-30 Getty'. So I can only assume from this that you are one of the infamous Charlie's Angels."  
  
Dylan was about to say something then thought better of it. "Yes, your reputation precedes you my dear. I understand that you managed to save the HALO rings and kill Seamus O'Grady. I didn't like Seamus mind you but he had something."  
  
"An insane mind," asked Dylan sarcastically.  
  
Anthony wondered how far she was going to push the Chief. The man's mind had been gone for awhile. Now Anthony just stood and watched the exchange between the two of them.  
  
"Insane? Seamus O'Grady was brilliant. He managed to keep his family running from prison. I only hope if by some strange chance I am caught I am able to keep my little family from falling apart. So," said the Chief tapping his slipper clad foot, "what to do with you." The Chief's eyes fell on Anthony. "You are a hired killer; would you like to dispatch the young lady?"  
  
Dylan watched as Anthony reached into his jacket pocket and produced his paper and pen. He wrote a note and handed it to the chief which the little man read. "Interesting, very interesting I must run this by Vivian but I think she will love it. Jorge, get some rope and give it to Anthony so he can tie the angel up until we are ready to leave.  
  
Jorge quickly returned with the rope and handed it to Anthony. He stood there a minute before the Chief said, "What are you waiting for? Tie her up." Anthony grabbed Dylan by the arm to lead her back to her room but she fought. The first punch caught him off guard in the jaw. He looked at her with wide angry eyes and thumbed the trickle of blood away that had formed in the corner of his mouth, and then he attacked. While the two sparred, the chief stood back watching, clapping his hands with glee. She fought him much harder than she had at the competition and he didn't hesitate to fight back just as strong. Too bad neither of them anticipated Jorge who took a vase off the sideboard where the phone sat and crashed it down on Dylan's head. She crumpled to the floor. 


	9. Attempts

( A/N Once again I want to thank everyone for reading and my reviewers. If you guys didn't review I probably would stop writing this. I think this is my favorite chapter so far and hope you like it too)  
  
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"Max knocked timidly on the door, "Can I come in," he asked peaking his head into the room. "You guys missed a call. It was Dylan." The room went silent and everyone looked up from what they were doing to stare at the teenager.  
  
"Dylan called? And you didn't tell us," asked Alex.  
  
"Yeah, well I didn't take the call I saw the light flashing on the machine when I came out of the bathroom and listened to it. That was okay, right," asked Max feeling like he was under a microscope.  
  
The angels, FBI agents, and Bosley looked at each other and ran down the stairs. Natalie was the first at the machine. "Well," said Alex urging her friend on, "hit the button let's hear it."  
  
"I can't," said Natalie sadly.  
  
"Why not," asked Mitchum walking over to the machine.  
  
"The tape was erased," replied the blonde looking at Max. Then they all turned and looked at the boy.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Max embarrassed at his mistake. The group glared at him.  
  
"Great," said Mitchum throwing up his hands, "Just great. You know kid I should toss you in jail for obstructing justice." He stepped towards Max and took out his handcuffs.  
  
"W-wait," said Max with his hand up in a fending off position. "I remember what she said."  
  
"What did she say," inquired Alex.  
  
"Give me a second, okay. It was strange and didn't make much sense. Um..something about WTC 930 and Tom Petty."  
  
"Tom Petty," asked Daniels. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Pretty," replied Max.  
  
"WTC 930," repeated Natalie. "WTC 930"  
  
"World Trade Center," suggested Bosley.  
  
"Maybe but 930,"said Mitchum sitting on the arm of the couch. "Is it a time and if so morning or evening and which day?"  
  
"No," cried Alex, "930 is the day. Its tomorrow, but I don't get the whole World Trade Center idea. It doesn't make sense that something is going to happen at a building that isn't standing anymore."  
  
Just then Max saw the day's paper, folded, untouched laying on coffee table with a headline that read "World Trade Conference Opens Tomorrow in Chicago." "Uh guys," said Max picking up the paper and unfolding it.  
  
"And Tom Petty? It can't be Tom Petty. I mean yeah, he hasn't produced anything good in awhile but why kill him," asked Natalie.  
  
"Guys," said Max again trying to get their attention.  
  
"I think we should focus on what we do have the World Trade Center, tomorrow. We could scout it, keep our eyes open in the area.." said Mitchum until Max cut him off with, "YOU GUYS!"  
  
They finally acknowledged the boy who was holding the paper up in front of him. "How about this World Trade CONFERENCE thing going on tomorrow?" Natalie rushed over and gave him a big hug and took the paper from his hands.  
  
"This is it," she cried happily bouncing around, "This is what Dylan was talking about. Something is going to be happening at this conference." Mitchum, Bosley and Alex all gathered around her looking at the newspaper. No one noticed that Daniels had slipped away.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony looked at Dylan's unconscious form lying on the bed. He checked her bonds on her hands and feet making sure they were secure and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. Jorge had hit her hard with the vase, enough to cause bleeding. Anthony had noticed the blood as he carried her into the room, running down the back of her neck. He laid her carefully on the bed, tied her up, removed the hideous black wig, and took care of the cut. It wasn't deep but it was a bleeder.  
  
He walked over and looked at his own face in the mirror. She had hit him good in the hallway, his tooth had cut his lip and it was a bit swollen from the impact of her fist but it could but covered up if need be. Then Dylan moaned. He turned and watched her slowly open her eyes. She tried to move her arms but he had tied them securely one to each bed post. Then she spotted Anthony watching her. "You!"  
  
He walked over to try to calm her down. Struggling wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Don't touch me," she yelled. He put his finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet. "I am not going to be quiet. I'll scream if I feel like it." Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. "I might be tied up for now but I'll get out of here and stop you from assassinating Getty," she went on. This time he made a vocal "Shhh," sound. "I should have known not to trust you. Once an assass." he shoved the handkerchief in her mouth. Dylan continued to complain although the sound was muffled. He wanted to tell her not to worry but he didn't have the chance; the door opened and Vivian entered being pushed by one agent Gloria Matthews. Dylan's eyes went wide at the sight.  
  
"Well, Well," said Vivian. "Look at what I have, my very own angel. How nice to see you again Dylan." The angels glanced between Vivian, Anthony and Agent Matthews. "Imagine my surprise when the Chief came to me and told me how lucky I was. You look more surprised to see Gloria than you were to see me. Gloria told me that it was just dumb luck that you got involved. Isn't that right Gloria?"  
  
Seeing the two women together allowed Dylan to make the connection that she had been missing. "Anthony, be a dear and un-gag her. I'd like to hear what she has to say," said Vivian to her on-again associate. He leaned over and removed the cloth from her mouth, shook it out and placed it neatly back in the breast pocket of his jacket. "You're sisters," said Dylan.  
  
The two women looked at each other and then the angel tied up on the bed. "Yes," said Gloria bluntly. "We are. I was surprised you didn't notice a family resemblance when I helped you get ready."  
  
"Seeing the obvious was never Dylan's strong point was it Dylan," said Vivian. "How long did it take you to realize Eric Knox was actually John McCadden and he wanted to kill your boss? You slept with him and still didn't realize the truth until he told you."  
  
"It was Mitchum's idea to involve you in this. I didn't think a thing of it because I truly didn't believe you would make it though the contest last night. If you didn't make it we didn't have to worry, the agent who tried out, 'the Vulture' was on our side."  
  
"Then why didn't you turn me in right away to the Chief," asked Dylan confused.  
  
"I didn't know you had won and once I found out I wasn't able to contact Vivian. This place isn't exactly listed in the phone book. I managed to tear myself away from Mitchum and come up here in person only to find you got yourself caught. To me you seemed like such a bright girl." Dylan struggled with the ropes while Gloria continued, "What a wasted trip."  
  
"Yes but the fact she is here is an added benefit," said Vivian. "I can not only have Getty eliminated but rid the world of the angels."  
  
"We did nothing to you," said Dylan furiously.  
  
"I hold you all partially responsible for my 'accident'," she replied icily, self-consciously touching her good hand to her face.  
  
"That was McCadden. He fired the missile. You chose to join him in trying to kill Charlie. Maybe you got what you deserved."  
  
"Perhaps, but I think you might be getting what you deserve as well. Rest Dylan, you earned this job and you will be the one to carry it out; the lone gun man in the book repository." With that Gloria wheeled her sister out of the room, but before she left she turned her head and said to Anthony, "make sure she doesn't escape."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan glared angrily at Anthony from her still tied position on the bed not saying a word. He stood by the window looking out watching the sunset that turned the sky an orange similar to the color of Dylan's hair. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke penetrating deep in his lungs, holding until he couldn't any longer, and then he slowly exhaled. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge; his eyes never leaving hers. Looking at her made him think about that night on the roof. He had shoved it out of his mind but being so close to her made him think of it again, the feel of her velvet lips against his.  
  
Dylan watched Anthony stand by the window looking outside. She wondered what was going though his mind. She wondered when he was going to get his orders to kill her, if he hadn't already. She hated him, no she corrected herself, the problem was she didn't hate him. She saw him turn and walk towards her and sit on the edge of the bed. He was looking at her so intently, so purposefully, that she felt discomfited. She couldn't look away and as he moved closer she recognized the look in his eyes, she had seen it once before. Her pulse sped up as she prepared for his inevitable kiss.  
  
A light knock at the door brought them back to reality. Anthony got up and answered the door it was the maid with a tray of food and a bottle of wine. "Your dinner, Sir," she said with a curtsey then left. He shut the door and placed the tray of food on the vanity. He lifted the silver lid of the tray and saw that the evening meal was pork medallions in white wine sauce, steamed broccoli and a baked potato. He sat on the vanity bench and spread the napkin over his lap.  
  
Across the room Dylan's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. Anthony stopped and turned to look at her. "I am so sorry my growling stomach is disturbing your meal," she said. He picked up the tray and brought it over to the bed and placed it carefully on the night table. "Oh so eating in the same room wasn't enough you have to eat in front of me." Anthony went on ignoring her remarks and cut a bite size piece off one of the medallions, and held it out to her. She shook her head 'no'. He set the fork on the edge of the plate and wrote, "You have to eat something."  
  
"I'm not hungry," she said defiantly but she was once again betrayed by her stomach. Anthony rolled his eyes and tried not to smile.  
  
"Please," he wrote and held the fork out to her again. Dylan gave in to the delicious aroma of the pork and opened her mouth and closed it around the tender morsel. "Mmmm," she said chewing then started to cough as she started to choke. Anthony quickly unbound one of her arms and helped her sit up, patting her on the back. "Thanks," she said as he handed her the goblet of wine.  
  
Anthony dipped into the potato and held the bite out to her. "I can feed myself," said Dylan. He took the piece and put it in his own mouth. He knew very well she could feed herself but he didn't want her to eat all of it and he didn't trust her with the utensils. Last thing she needed was a knife. As they sat in companionable silence they each wondered if the other was enjoying the time together as much as they were. Dylan hated to break the silence but it had to be said, "I have to go to the ladies room."  
  
He arched and eyebrow. "I really have to go. I promise I won't try to escape," she said adjusting on the bed trying to lessen the pressure on her bladder. He stood and went into the bathroom and made sure there were no sharp objects or ways to escape. Too bad Dylan was quicker than he was. Before he returned she managed to untie her other arm and hop into position. As he exited the bathroom she hit him over the head with a heavy candlestick knocking him unconscious. She untied her ankles and tied him with the same rope he used on her. "So I lied," she said stepping over his form and going into the bathroom to relieve her discomfort.  
  
She snuck silently down the hall ducking out of sight as Jorge made his hourly security check of the house. As she crept down the stairs and past the office in which she had re-met Vivian Woods, she heard voices laughing and talking. "Are you serious," said Vivian, "this is much better than I expected. I not only can get rid of Getty but that angel and Anthony."  
  
The Chief responded in a puzzled tone, "But I thought you were glad to be working with him again."  
  
"Glad? Ha! He should have been in that blaze not me. Don't worry though, after Chicago he will wish he had been."  
  
Dylan hesitated and thought of the unconscious man upstairs. Anthony was as much a pawn in Vivian's game as anyone, but she couldn't help either him or herself if she didn't get out of the house and she wasn't quite sure where his loyalties laid or if he had any at all. She moved quietly approaching the door and reached for the knob. She never heard the man on the other side. As she opened it she found herself looking down the barrel of Agent Daniels' gun. 


	10. And So the Story Goes

Ok here is Chapter 10. I think it's boring but I felt I had to clear a few things up. I hope I still have your attention and no one is drooling on their keyboard.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Okay here is the plan," said Alex in her take charge way. "We can stop them before they get there. Dylan didn't call that long ago and so I think we should assume that they are still at the Chief's house near King's Canyon. Natalie and I will go there get her and arrest the Chief, the Creepy Thin Man and whoever else is involved. If we move fast they will never have a chance to get to Chicago."  
  
Natalie nodded along in agreement as Alex stated her plan. Mitchum sat quietly waiting until she was done and then said, "I think we are better off heading to Chicago. Maybe Dylan made the call on her way out the door. We need to work on that assumption; not where they were or are because they will probably be gone before we get there, but where they will be. We go to Chicago and set a trap for them there. What do you think, Daniels?" There was no answer from Daniels who had long been gone on his way to the house of the Chief near the national park. "Daniels," asked Mitchum again looking around. "Shit where did he go?"  
  
Max walked into the room stuffing his face with a Twinkie. "Have you seen Daniels," Mitchum asked the teen.  
  
"Yeah he left like ten, fifteen minutes ago. Said there was something he needed to take care of," replied the boy.  
  
Mitchum sat on the couch and put his head in his hands rubbing the heels of them against his eyes. "Damn! Damn! And double Damn," they could hear him mutter. He then stood and started pacing. He looked up and noticed the angels, Bosley, and Max staring at him. He cleared his throat and began, "Alright, there is something else you need to know. You aren't going to like it any better than I do. Somehow all of this has gotten out of control and I am to blame I know that. I should have trusted that Charlie would only have had the best working for him. How could I have been so stupid?" The last sentence he said more to himself than the group in the office.  
  
"What are you talking about," asked Natalie. "Is Dylan in some kind of trouble? Why is Daniels leaving a problem?"  
  
"Let me start from the beginning. I got word of the need for two assassins. It wasn't a source, just an ad on the internet. The Director didn't want to waste FBI resources on this ad and said that we were wasting valuable bureau time and resources pursuing it. I didn't think so. I had tried to catch the Chief before and failed so I knew how his mind works; when it works. The man is insane. The ad was just like other ads he had left in the past the director just didn't want to see it. I went ahead and recruited Daniels to help me. I told him how it wasn't official bureau business and he accepted." He paused, looked at the faces of his audience to see if he should go on. Alex nodded at him to continue so he did.  
  
"The qualifications for getting in to this contest were tough so we created a persona; a woman, someone who was different enough to catch the Chief's eye. We created Lucrezia. At the time she didn't have a last name and we didn't have an actual person. Sure there were women in the FBI but I knew that we could lose our jobs for investigating this without bureau support so I didn't want to bring another colleague in on this. I went to Charlie, who is an old friend of mine and told him what I needed. He and I discussed all of you and agreed that Dylan would be perfect for the job. Danress is just an anagram of her last name."  
  
"Wait," interrupted Natalie. "So what does this have to do with Daniels?"  
  
"I am getting to that," replied Mitchum. "Matthews came to me the same day. Said that she knew that Chief was looking for assassins and she was out to arrest the 'criminal master mind' that the Chief was recruiting for. She said she couldn't say because it was her case and very hush hush. She said that she knew the director had nixed my investigation but she was willing to give me a hand because it tied into her case. I later found out that she was in on it. That she had family connections to the person who was going through the Chief. I also found out she had another accomplice within the bureau, but who that was I didn't know."  
  
"Until now," said Alex. "The other person is Daniels isn't it?"  
  
Sadly Mitchum nodded. "I don't know how I could have missed it. The problem now is he has a head start on us. He knows what we know."  
  
"That means he knows we are expecting something tomorrow in Chicago and we know where the Chief is located," said Natalie. "Will be blow Dylan's cover?"  
  
"I think it has already been blown," he responded. "Matthews told me she was headed to the bureau to help another agent with a case. I doubt that is true. Plus she helped Dylan get ready for the fight. She already knew who Dylan was."  
  
"If she knew all along then." said Natalie.  
  
"She knew all along but I don't think she realized that Dylan would win the competition. She thought her own agent, who was also fighting in the match would get the job."  
  
"Okay," said Alex. "Here is what we are going to do."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan stopped the barrel of the gun in her face. "Daniels," she said sighing with relief.  
  
"Dylan," he said coolly.  
  
"We have to get out of here. Get back up. Or do you have backup," she asked excitedly.  
  
"I think you need to back up," he said looking at the red-headed angel in front of him. He waved the gun signaling she should head back into the house.  
  
"Where is Mitchum," she asked.  
  
"He's in LA with the angels. Oh and back up is already here."  
  
Suddenly an icy voice came from behind her, "Mike, I am so glad you could make it. It looks like Dylan was a naughty angel."  
  
Dylan turned to see Gloria Matthews standing behind her. She looked from one FBI agent to the other. "You're in on this two," she asked Daniels disbelieving.  
  
"Of course I am. How else did you think that you and the Thin Man were going to get close enough to my father to kill him?"  
  
"Donald Getty is your father? I heard he had no children."  
  
"Oh he had two Dylan. He never owned up to either of them. Of course I have always known he was my father. My mother used to try to get money from him when I was a kid. We would stand outside the Getty building in Chicago in the freezing cold in our thin cloth coats waiting for him to come out of that tower of marble and glass. Sometimes we were lucky and he would give her a hundred dollar bill, but most of the time he would ignore us or pat me on the head and say 'cute kid' and move on. My half sister wasn't that lucky. She never knew who her father was; I think that once she knows she would be happy to kill him as well."  
  
"I see why you are angry. I never knew my father either but I don't think Getty deserves to die. What do Matthews and Vivian Wood have to do with this? Why do they want to kill Getty?"  
  
"That, Dylan, you will find out when you need to," said Vivian rolling up behind her Jorge at her side. "Jorge, be a dear and take Dylan back upstairs. Jorge has orders to kill you if you try to get away so please don't fight I would like you in top form for tomorrow."  
  
Jorge grabbed Dylan roughly by the arm and led her up the stairs passing Anthony on the way down. She tried to meet his eyes but he didn't look at her. If he was her ally before she doubted if he was now. In fact he was probably more than willing to work for Vivian.  
  
"We have a problem Viv," said Daniels to the woman in the wheelchair. "Dylan managed to make a call and tell the angels about Chicago."  
  
"I knew the call got out I just didn't think they would be so quick. Knowing them Dylan will be their first priority so they will come here. We leave for Chicago in an hour. Gloria," she said to the woman in the doorway behind her, "tell the pilot to get the plane ready."  
  
Anthony stood soberly by and watched Gloria do as she was told. Vivian turned to him and looked him up and down. I'm sure you were a pretty sight tied up on the bedroom floor. Good thing the Chief decided to check on you. Don't worry. You will have your chance to get revenge on her as well. She thinks she is doing the actual killing but you are. I want to see the look on her face when the man she loves kills her father."  
  
Anthony's eyes gave away his surprise. "Oh I saw how she looked at you in the office. That is a woman whose body language gives everything away. I also noticed your medallion around her neck. I remember when I wore it instead. Do you remember?"  
  
Anthony did remember but he didn't want to. Sleeping with Vivian Woods was once of the few things in his life he regretted. She had been looking for someone to assist Eric Knox aka John McCadden in killing Charles Townsend. He had been introduced to her by a former client, Neville Rutherford at a party that the man threw. She had been so sophisticated and elegant that night she took his breath away. Before he had known it he had gone to her room with her, under the pretense of talking business, but things changed quickly to that of pleasure.  
  
As she dressed the next morning she found his medallion laying on the dresser and put it on. They spent the week together. The days were spent discussing, as much as he discussed anything, the plans McCadden had and the night having sex. He couldn't think of it as anything else since there was no passion to it and other than the first night he held no desire for her. It didn't take him long to realize that she had been McCadden's from the start and was just playing with him. He was glad that his heart had never been involved and resented the fact that she now pretended hers was.  
  
Now she was telling him that he would kill Dylan's father and break her heart. "As long as I get paid I don't really care," he told himself as he lit another cigarette. "As long as I get paid."  
  
*-*-*-*-* 


	11. Flight

Exciting? I hope so. I calculated the miles distance using Fresno and Chicago Midway Airport. Its pretty accurate give or take a few miles. I hope you all aren't that picky. Lol. Please take the time to review. Thanks!  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
They stood on the tarmac looking at the Chief's King Air C-90B that was to take them to Meigs Field in Chicago. Although the small airport on the lake front had been closed the city had reopened it to the participants of the WTC. The mechanic disembarked and looked at the group that was planning on flying that evening to the Windy City. He hated to break the news to them but the wind they were standing in was going to be worse up in the air. What they were feeling on the ground was the front of a storm blowing in from across the plains.  
  
"Howdy folks," he drawled in his Deep South accent. "Chief said you want to go to Chi-town tonight."  
  
Vivian answered him, "Is that a problem?"  
  
"Depends on what you call a problem ma'am. I think ya'll should wait til morning or you'll have a lot of turbulence up there," he said pointing to the sky. This here wind is part of a big 'ol storm system movin' in. Weather down here will be bad but in the sky worse."  
  
"You can fly in it though can't you," Vivian asked Jorge. Jorge nodded in the affirmative.  
  
"Well ma'am I'm sure he can but it'll be like one of them there roller coasters. Wouldn't recommend it if you feel have a sensitive tummy."  
  
"Fine," said Vivian. "We are flying. We have to get there tonight."  
  
"Your call," said the mechanic turning to the plane. Then he called over his shoulder, "You in first. I need to stow that fancy chair of yours," as he proceeded to do preflight checks.  
  
Jorge lifted Vivian and carried her into the plane. It was a narrow fit for the two of them to get through the small cabin door. "You next," said Gloria waving her gun at Dylan. When the angel didn't move fast enough she poked her in the back with it. The angel climbed the stairs and thought about ways she might be able to escape. Anthony followed behind her and finishing up the party were the two FBI agents.  
  
The small craft had thee single seats on each side of the aisle. Dylan sat in on of the ones furthest back, Anthony on the opposite side in the middle and the two FBI agents in the front. Vivian and Jorge were in the cockpit. Dylan stared out the window as the small plane taxied down the runway. She thought about the events of the last three days and sighed. "Some angel I am," she said to herself silently. "Okay Dylan, think this is no time for a pity party. Maybe I could commandeer the plane? No too many of them and no place to work."  
  
Just then Gloria's voice brought her out of her reverie. Gloria had moved back to the seat in front of her and across from Anthony. "Alright, we won't let Dylan's disloyalty to us stop this assassination. After all she will be our main player." Dylan just glared at the FBI agent. "We have two chances to kill Getty. The first is the hotel. Getty has his apartment there. It's the penthouse. While it's very secure we have the codes we need to get into it. The only problem is the effect won't be as big as Vivian would like it to be. Second chance is at McCormick Place. He will be holding a speech at three tomorrow afternoon at the Arie Crown Theater that is part of the convention center. I have a pair of press passes for the two of you," she reached into her pocket and held up laminated badges with their pictures on them. "This will be the more difficult of the two locations to reach him. It will have to be done with a gun." She opened the small attaché case she had brought on board and showed a tranquilizer gun.  
  
"Tranquilizers," asked Dylan puzzled.  
  
"No but the gun does shoot darts. These are filled with fast acting virus that will kill him in seconds. I wouldn't recommend accidentally pricking yourselves with them. The death it causes is rather messy."  
  
Dylan and Anthony exchanged looks. He was feeling uneasy about this job. It wasn't the way he worked. He believed in- in and out, clean and simple, one of the reasons he preferred his sword to other methods. He had questions though so he pulled out his pad and wrote, "How contagious is this virus," and handed the slip to Gloria.  
  
"Do I look like and epidemiologist? This is what I know and Vivian can tell you more if you feel the need to ask. It is contagious but not outside the body or a pure oxygen environment. All the mess that will be expelled, vomit, blood, mucus is just that, mess. Once it's exposed to air it dies. Since it works so quickly the joke is only necropheliacs can contract it. Maybe coroners but once again if they get it they are dead in a matter of seconds."  
  
"It still doesn't answer 'why'," said Dylan exasperated by the circles that she felt she was running in.  
  
Jorge interrupted by yelling back, "Fasten your seatbelts, we are going to have some turbulence." The four passengers in the back buckled up just as the ride began.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The helicopter landed at the airstrip outside Kings Canyon a little after ten pm. The mechanic watched as the four strangers got out. He didn't mind starring; the two women were easy on the eyes. Alex noticed the older man standing in the office of the small terminal and headed his way.  
  
"Hi," she said leaning forward on the desk exposing her clevage, "do you know where we can rent a car?"  
  
"A car?"  
  
"Yeah, four wheels you drive it," she replied.  
  
"No car rentals around here. This is a private landing strip. I don't think the owner would much 'preciate ya'll landing your whirlybird here."  
  
"Maybe it's the owner we are coming to see," said the dark-haired angel sweetly.  
  
"You know the Chief," he asked. "For a fellow light in the loafers he certainly has lots of purty young thangs comin' to see him."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yep. They just left though. Its 'mazing that ya'll managed to get here with this wind but they were flying into the storm. I hope they don't have any problems."  
  
"I think those were the people we were supposed to meet. Can you describe them for us," said Natalie who just entered the building.  
  
"Why sure ma'am, there was Jorge, I've known him for years. Then there were the couple that looked like real estate agent,"  
  
"Must have been Matthews and Daniels," said Alex and Natalie nodded in agreement.  
  
The mechanic continued, "Then there was the undertaker and the pretty little red head that was dressed like a vampire. Strange those two trying to ignore each other. Even an old fellow like me could see that they were lovebirds having a spat."  
  
"That sounds like Dylan and the 'undertaker' must have been the Creepy Thin Man," said Natalie excited.  
  
"Then there was the lady in the wheelchair. Felt right bad for her. Looked like she was in a bad fire."  
  
"Lady in a wheelchair," asked Natalie.  
  
"Yeah, she seemed to be the one in charge though. It was her call to fly in this weather. Stupid to do it if you ask me, and they didn't but I told them so anyway. The lady was bound and set on leaving tonight."  
  
"Thanks for your help sir," said Natalie as they walked towards Bosley and Mitchum. "Who could she be?"  
  
"I haven't a clue. We could go and interrogate the Chief but that would take too long and they have enough of a head start on us as it is. I guess we refuel here and hope we can make it to Chicago."  
  
"So we're going to Chicago," asked Mitchum who had long since given what authority he had to the angels.  
  
"It's 1506 nautical miles to Chicago, we've got a half a pack of cigarettes, a full tank of gas, its dark and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it," said Bosley paraphrasing the "Blues Brothers". They all laughed and re- boarded the helicopter.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The private jet tossed around in the sky like a leaf. Gloria was praying incessantly."Our father who art in Heaven hallowed be thy name." In between sentences she was leaning over a small pail and throwing up. Daniels didn't look much better.  
  
Towards the back of the plane Anthony sat calmly looking out the window at the flashing lighting smoking. He glanced at Dylan who was clutching the armrests of her seat. Although she didn't look frightened her white knuckles were giving her away.  
  
Dylan glanced across the aisle at Anthony. He was looking out the window now but she knew he had been watching her. She could feel his eyes. As she looked at him she saw something else, parachutes. There was an emergency exit in the back behind Anthony's seat. She startled as he quickly looked at her as though he read her mind. She watched his eyes dart to where she had been looking and gave a quick nod. Was he giving her permission? She wondered.  
  
The lighting flashed and a crack of thunder roared immediately afterwards. Gloria screamed as the plane started to dive. Dylan could hear Vivian barking orders in the cockpit but the only thing she could make out was "We are not going to die." As the plane started to level out again she could see both Matthews and Daniels sitting with their heads between their knees. She stood slowly and reached for one of the three parachutes and carefully strapped it on. Anthony nudged the case with the dart gun towards her with his foot. She gave him a small smile. As the plane dipped again she fell across the seat into his arms.  
  
Anthony didn't know why he was helping her escape, he should still be mad at her for hitting him over the head with the candlestick, but as she fell into his arms it didn't matter. He inhaled the clean scent of her mussed hair and gently rubbed his chin against the top of her head. She turned her head and didn't realize how close their faces were so their noses collided. "Ow," she said softly her eyes never leaving his. He would have loved to stay that way but he knew now was her chance. He grazed his lips quickly across hers and pushed her up. "Come," she mouthed to him. He shook his head "no". He still had a job to do and if he was lucky it would all work out to his advantage.  
  
Another crack of thunder and the plane dropped again. Dylan couldn't see a thing out the back window, she had no idea what she was jumping in to but she threw open the door anyway. A wind whipped through the cabin blowing papers around. "Stop her," yelled Vivian as she turned and saw what the problem was.  
  
Anthony pretended to grab for her and miss. Daniels pulled out his gun and fired but the turbulence caused the plane to bounce and the shot to barely missed Dylan's head as she jumped out into the inky storm. 


	12. Down To Earth

Hi I cranked this chapter out this morning. Hope it meets everyone's standards.  
  
"Down to the Earth I fell On Dripping Wings Heavy Things don't fly."- Nina Gordon (Tonight and the Rest of My Life)  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
With a lot of struggle Agent Daniels managed to shut the emergency exit and after another twenty minutes they passed out of the storm cell. "She jumped," said Gloria to Vivian. "I just can't believe that she jumped into that," she said waving her arm to signal she meant the storm.  
  
"Well if we are lucky the angel went to heaven," said Vivian.  
  
"We aren't lucky," wrote Anthony in a note, "She took the gun with her." As of yet they didn't realize that he had given it to her but that was a good thing.  
  
"What! Weren't you three watching her?" Vivian's eyes were blazing with anger the only thing that kept her calm was the thought of the angel's body splating on the rain soaked earth and breaking her neck.  
  
"Watching her? Watching her," said Gloria angrily to her sister. "I've spent this whole flight so far throwing up. Daniels has been kissing his ass good bye thinking we were going to die as well and him," she said pointing to the Anthony, "He was asleep. Hell who would have thought that she would be crazy enough to jump out into the storm!"  
  
"I would have," replied Vivian waving one finger in the air. "I bet Anthony would have too. Wouldn't you have, Anthony? I suppose the little thing knocking you unconscious didn't let you rest enough, you had to sleep on the flight as well. Well other arrangements will have to be made."  
  
Anthony listened with out emotion to her ranting and the general round of blaming. His mind was elsewhere. His mind was wondering if his angle made it. "Wait a second," he said to himself, "when did she become my Angel?" Another part of him answered, "From the moment she jumped on your back in the alley. You just sealed it with a kiss on the roof top and reconfirmed it before she jumped." He wondered if that part of him was right. He had never really been in love before. Did he love her? Was that love? He had thought he was immune to such emotions. He knew caring but that was different. The nuns had cared. They didn't want to see him hurt any more than the other children, but it wasn't love. He knew admiration. He had admired people, the man who taught him how to wield a sword, the other Angels' fighting skills, people with power, but no, love was new. Love he decided was getting in the way. He had no time for it. It would be better for both of them if she didn't survive the fall.  
  
"Well." finished up Vivian, "We go on and carry out the plan. Anthony it's now your responsibility to kill Getty. I don't care how. I have a feeling though we may, despite everything, be seeing that angel again. They have more lives than cats."  
  
Anthony sat back in his seat and pulled out his sword from its sheath running his handkerchief along the smooth metal cleaning it and trying to gain his concentration back for the coming day. He needed it to be in his usual top form.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Homer, Homer," hissed the old woman rolling over and poking her husband with a crooked finger. "Homer!" The old man shrugged her off as long as he could then sat up and saw his wife sitting in bed next to him, her hair wrapped tightly around curlers and tied in a pink scarf which in the darkness appeared a plumb color.  
  
"What do you want I was a sleepin'," replied the man drowsily.  
  
"Did you hear that," she asked clasping the blanket tighter to her chest.  
  
Homer rolled his eyes, "How would I have heard anything? I was sleeping and it pouring down rain out there."  
  
"Something's out there Homer, it riled the pigs up. Can't you hear them?"  
  
Homer listened and he realized he could hear the pigs that were normally asleep this time of night as well, grunting and squealing and banging against their trough. "Probably those blasted teenagers," he said swinging his feet out of bed and slipping on his robe. He headed towards the door stopping to pull on a pair of large black rubber boots and his bright yellow rain slicker with the words "Homer Hudson's Happy Hog Haven" on the back. He grabbed his shot gun and his old mastiff and headed out to the barn.  
  
The outside lights were still on, "That's a good sign," he said to the dog, "at least those kids didn't destroy the bulbs." They opened the barn door and dog ran in first barking which made the pigs squeal even louder. Homer flicked the light switch and saw nothing. He walked around the large building, stopped and looked skywards; rain was falling though a gaping hole in the roof. "Damn. Ruth is going to have my head. I was supposed to replace those rotted boards six months ago." As he was going to get a tarp to pull over the exposed pens he heard a moan. "Did you hear that Kaiser," he asked his faithful dog. He heard the moan again and Kaiser did too because he ran forward and jumped the rail into one of the pens. Homer followed him startled to see Dylan coated in mud lying tangled in the cords of a bright blue parachute. She was unconscious but alive.  
  
Homer wasted no time opening the small low gate and to her side. "Miss? Miss?" He gently patted her cheek as he cradled her shivering form. She didn't respond. "Let's get her back to the house Kai," said the old man picking her up from the floor and carrying her back to the house.  
  
"Homer," called his wife from the kitchen as he entered the house. "Who was that out there?"  
  
"Put a sheet on the couch and get an old blanket too," yelled Homer.  
  
"What in tarnation," exclaimed his wife as she brought the requested items into the living room and saw her husband holding Dylan's lifeless form. She spread the sheet out on the couch and he laid her down.  
  
"Found her in the barn. Looks like she fell through the roof. Why she was parachuting at this time of night who knows."  
  
" Parachuting? And nearly naked too. Homer, this girl is barely wearing any clothes."  
  
Dylan started to stir. Her head hurt but she didn't feel like anything was broken. She didn't want to open her eyes just yet. She tried to remember what happened. "You jumped out of the plane to escape with the virus. You were blown around, and you finally managed to land but through the roof of a building." As she laid there trying to regain consciousness she could smell something strong and pungent. She had to know what it was and so she slowly opened her eyes.  
  
"Well there little lady," said the old man with a smile and kind light blue eyes. "How are you feeling? I can tell you that my pigs were scared but they'll get over it."  
  
Dylan sat up holding her head. "My head hurts. Where am I?"  
  
Homer stood and turned around showing her the back of his rain coat. Dylan gave a small giggle, "Pleased to meet you Mr. Hudson."  
  
"Likewise. My wife is in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. And you are? We just can't go on calling you 'pig girl'."  
  
"I'm Dylan Sanders," she said holding out her hand and feeling perplexed at the surrealness of it all. "You didn't happen to find a plastic case where you found me did you?"  
  
"Cant say I did but I didn't really look either," Homer replied as his wife brought in a pot of coffee.  
  
"Oh you're awake," she said eyeing Dylan who sat on the couch.  
  
"Ruth, I'd like you to meet Miss Dylan Sanders." Homer introduced them and Dylan held out her hand.  
  
"Would you like a bath," asked Ruth. "The coffee can keep."  
  
"What I would like is to make a phone call," she then turned to Homer, "and then I need to find that case I told you about. Then I'll gladly take a bath."  
  
Homer and Ruth exchanged a smile, "Ok sweetie," said Ruth, "The phone is in the kitchen, come with me." Dylan stood and followed the woman to the kitchen. She lifted the receiver and dialed the agency number in LA. Just as she thought she was going to get the answering machine again Max answered the phone "Townsend Agency."  
  
"Max," cried Dylan happily.  
  
"Dylan is that you?"  
  
"Yeah it's me. I need to talk to Alex or Nat."  
  
"They aren't here."  
  
"Bosley then."  
  
"He's not here either. They took the helicopter and are after you and the FBI agents."  
  
"Im not with them anymore. I was tired of the company and jumped out of the plane," she said with a giggle. Ruth was listening and her eyes widened at the thought of anyone jumping out of a plane let alone into a storm. "Do you know how to work the radio? You can patch me through to the helicopter. I need to give them some information."  
  
"I have a basic idea," said the boy taking the cordless and going to the room with the equipment. "But I'm going to need you to talk me through the rest."  
  
"How much do you know," she asked  
  
"I know how to turn it on," he said. Dylan smiled and instructed him through the dials and knobs. Finally she heard. "This is Black Angel- home base, over"  
  
"Nat its Dylan, over."  
  
"Dylan! It's Dylan! Where are you Dylan? Over." Dylan could picture the blonde angel bouncing around in the helicopter excitedly.  
  
"I'm. hold on Nat. over." Then she asked Ruth where she was. "Nat, I am in Grainfield, Nebraska on Homer Hudson's Happy Hog Haven, Over."  
  
"You are in a grain field in Nebraska? Please repeat over." Dylan rolled her eyes and repeated her previous message.  
  
"What's your number there? We will call you back when we have an ETA. Over."  
  
Dylan got the phone number and passed it on then hung up. "Thanks Mrs. Hudson. Could I get that bath now," asked Dylan deciding that she couldn't take the smell of wet pig anymore and that the case could wait a few more minutes. 


	13. Dreams

Here is Chapter 13. I hope you like it. I wrote part of it on the S-bahn on my way to a friend's house yesterday. It also took me sometime to determine the direction this story would take. Happy reading.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Dylan napped curled up on the grey sofa with pink roses in the Hudson's living room. Even the sound of the rotor blades of the helicopter landing in the front yard didn't wake the tired angel. Homer let Alex and Natalie into the house and told them that they could find their friend in the living room.  
  
"Thanks, Mr. Hudson," said Natalie as perk as ever then to Alex. "Isn't she so sweet when she is asleep?"  
  
Alex sat on the edge of the couch, "A sight for sore eyes that is for sure. Dylan?" Dylan didn't stir and the Hudson's sleepy cat on the back of the couch gave Alex a slow "why are you disturbing my rest" blink. "Dylan," she repeated a little louder and gently shook her by the shoulder. Dylan turned over and scared the cat who gave a frightened meow and jumped down landing in the middle of her stomach. That woke the sleeping angel who sat upright.  
  
"W-what," she began stuttering and then noticed the other angels. "Alex," she cried embracing her friend. Natalie sat on the couch and hugged both of them. "I am so glad to see you two. You would not believe the past two days I have had."  
  
"I think we would," said Natalie glancing at the living room door where Bosley and Mitchum stood. Dylan stood revealing the light blue checked dress she was wearing- a loan from Ruth Hudson from Ruth's thinner days, and went to give Bosley a hug.  
  
"How you doin' Lucy;" he asked Dylan playfully.  
  
She smacked him on the arm. "Please, don't call me that. I am Dylan Sanders and that is who I'll always be. Well, from now on. I hope." Then she went to agent Mitchum, "I suppose you know that Daniels and Matthews are in on this assassination."  
  
"He has for quite awhile," said Alex.  
  
"What," asked Dylan. "And you send me in knowing that they would know about me?"  
  
Mitchum tried to explain what he had known and when he had known it. "But we still don't know who the Chief's client is," he finished up.  
  
"Oh that is an easy one. Try Vivian Woods," said Dylan sitting back down on the couch.  
  
"Vivian Woods," asked Alex and Natalie in synch.  
  
"Yes, Vivian Woods. While the Thin Man survived pretty much in tact Vivian didn't fare so well."  
  
"Who is Vivian Woods," asked Mitchum, "and why do you girls know who everyone in this case is?"  
  
Dylan explained their connection to Vivian and filled the angels on the events after Knox fired the missile at them at the mission. "So she is the burn victim the mechanic at the airstrip was telling us about," said Natalie. "Why is she after Getty?"  
  
"I don't know. I do know that Daniels claims that he is Getty's illegitimate son, but what Vivian's stake in this I don't know," explained Dylan.  
  
Mitchum thanked Mrs. Hudson for the coffee. Then he stood and said, "I think we better go get to them before they kill Donald Getty." Dylan thanked the farmer and his wife and the troop of them headed out to the helicopter. As Dylan placed her foot on the small step to climb in Alex's eyes widened, "Are those my black suede boots?" Dylan looked down at the once lovely pair of shoes that were now ruined by rain, pig slop and mud. She blushed and said "I guess you won't want them back then."  
  
They were about to take off when Dylan spotted Homer waving urgently to them. "Hold on Alex," she yelled over the roar of the rotors. Dylan hopped out and noticed what the old man wanted. He was holding the case she had jumped out of the plane with. "I thought you might want this Miss Dylan," he said handing her the hard black plastic case. Dylan took the case and planted a quick kiss on his grizzled cheek. "Thank you so much, Homer. You didn't open it did you?" Once she ascertained he hadn't and was safe and healthy she hopped back in and off the angels went into the sky.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The group of five entered the lobby of the Chicago Hilton and approached the reception desk. The receptionist was a bubbly blonde whose name tag proclaimed her to be "Missy". Jorge pushed Vivian closer to the desk. "Welcome to the Chicago Hilton," piped Missy's tiny voice, reminiscent of a piccolo flute. "Do you have reservations?"  
  
Vivian looked at the blonde girl with contempt. "They are under 'Sanders'," she said with a smirk. "But we will need one less room than expected. A member of our party." she paused, "dropped out."  
  
"That won't be a problem ma'am. We can use the space. We've been booked out. Do you still require the smoking room," she asked. In reply Anthony lit up and looked at her with his non-wavering stare. "Uh, Okay," she said turning back to her computer.  
  
Anthony wondered what the girl thought of the odd group they comprised. He wished Vivian hadn't booked them all in the same hotel. It wasn't as through they were inconspicuous; quite the opposite. He watched the girl preparing the room keys. She had such lovely hair. He didn't normally like blondes but her golden tresses shone in the halogen lights embedded in the ceiling above the desk. They brought out the light orange natural highlights and they made his hands yearn for a lock. Vivian's voice brought him out of his trance. She was saying something to Daniels about the convention center and the theater, so instead of reaching out and snatching a lock of the Missy's hair he removed Dylan's strands from his pocket and ran the silken tresses against his cheek wondering what happened to her.  
  
/*-*-*-*-*  
  
On the flight to Chicago Dylan told Mitchum and the Angels all she knew about the plans. "And then it was up to Anthony and me to decide whether to use the virus on Getty in the hotel or at the theater where he is making his presentation."  
  
"And did you decide," asked the agent.  
  
"I decided to jump out of the plane and take the virus with me. They will have to find a new method."  
  
"They have a method," said Alex, "The Thin Man's sword." No matter what, even if he did save her life, she couldn't think of him as anything but "The Thin Man."  
  
"Maybe but it isn't very dramatic and that seemed to be what Vivian was looking for; something shocking," replied Dylan.  
  
"Seeing a man stabbed with a sword isn't shocking," asked Mitchum.  
  
"Not as dramatic as seeing a man infected with a fast acting virus and losing all his bodily fluids on stage. No I don't think so."  
  
"Did she have a backup plan," asked Natalie.  
  
"If she did she didn't mention it; while I was there at least. I suppose she thought that Anthony and I were enough."  
  
Natalie looked at Mitchum and asked, "Do we know who Getty's other illegitimate child is?"  
  
"Getty was known for his affairs especially in the seventies. He had numerous mistresses. We could narrow it down to say that if he did have a child it was born before nineteen seventy seven. That is when he had an accident that prevented him from having any children," answered Mitchum.  
  
"We also know that the child was a girl," said Dylan. "Daniels specifically said that he had a half sister. Even though he didn't say so I was under the impression she was younger than he was and she never knew Getty. He also thought that she would want revenge on him as well. I don't see what she would have to do with this though. "  
  
Alex pulled out her laptop. "I have a hunch but I want to check first. I am going to go through old newspaper records from between 1972 and 1977 and see if I can make a list of his mistresses and locate the missing sibling. Maybe in doing so I can find out why Vivian wants to get Getty as well."  
  
The rest of the flight Alex worked on her project, Bosley played a handheld video game, Mitchum slept, and Natalie flew the helicopter. Dylan let her mind wander. She was exhausted but her mind wouldn't let her sleep. She knew there was something she was missing about the case. Something, some kind of clue kept eluding her. It was something that tugged on the edge of her memory but wouldn't come to the forefront. "Damn," she whispered to herself. It was bothering her that she couldn't remember. She leaned her head against the wall of the helicopter and closed her eyes. Though she thought she couldn't sleep she dozed off to the rhythmic hum of the rotors.  
  
Dylan dreamt. It was a weird mixture of her childhood and her present. Her mother was talking to a man in a suit, yelling at him. She couldn't make out the words or the man's face, but he had made her mother cry. She started to cry too because she was only a little girl and couldn't protect her mommy. As she cried she was swept up in someone's arms, Anthony's arms, he was trying to get her to stop and rocking her. Although she felt safe there she wanted down, away then suddenly she was hanging from the helicopter that Knox was flying three years ago. She had pulled herself up on to the landing gear and straddled it something caught her eye as small things in dreams sometimes do. Had it been real-life she would have never noticed it. She ran her dream finger over the small engraving and looked at dream Alex who was rewiring the controls of the missile. This was what she was looking for. "Wake up," she told herself. "Wake up Dylan; this is what you wanted to remember."  
  
Dylan eyes flew open as she awoke. At first she wasn't sure where she was. "Hey Dyl, you okay," asked Bosley.  
  
Dylan nodded and swallowed. "Do we have anything to drink?" Alex reached into her bag and produced a bottle of water which she handed to Dylan. Dylan drank and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "I think I know why Vivian wants Getty. Its stupid but I think Vivian is insane."  
  
"What," asked Mitchum.  
  
"Good thing you are all sitting because I don't think you'd believe me otherwise," said Dylan. 


	14. One Down

A/N I couldn't find out how many floors the real Chicago Hilton has we are going for 20 in this story. I tried to estimate from the picture on the website and I know I'm close but if I am wrong please don't complain. Also my FBI agents move quickly apparently. So if they seem to get around and not a lot of time has passed I am sorry.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Good thing you are all sitting because I don't think you'd believe me otherwise," said Dylan after she woke up from her dream.  
  
"We'd believe Vivian is crazy," said Natalie, "look how she followed Knox."  
  
"That was infatuation, maybe love," replied Dylan, "but with Vivian it's now more than that. She has a new obsession and is after anyone who might have had anything to do with it no matter how remote a connection." Dylan turned to Mitchum, "I am sure that Nat and Alex told you how we met Vivian Wood." Mitchum nodded. "And I am sure that they told you how we thought she had died, an exploding missile meant for us fired from Eric Knox.John McCadden's helicopter."  
  
Mitchum nodded again, "It's hard to believe that she and the fellow you call 'the Thin Man' survived that. The chances of that are astronomical."  
  
"Well," continued Dylan, "did they tell you how we finally defeated McCadden?" She looked between the angels and the FBI agent.  
  
"No, the just told me how you angels tied them together with the chain and then you filled me.us in on the details of how they survived but not what happened with McCadden."  
  
Dylan took a deep breath and began recounting how they had barely escaped the explosion, how John Bosley had come and picked them up in a jeep and how they followed the helicopter along the Pacific Coast Highway. "We managed to get on board, Alex rewired the second missile so it would return and destroy the helicopter while I fought with McCadden inside. There was something on the helicopter that imprinted itself in my mind. It was small and insignificant, well then it was, but now I'm not so sure."  
  
"What was it," he asked curiously.  
  
"I'm getting to that. We sat on the landing gear and as I pulled myself into the helicopter I noticed an engraving on the missile, it said 'made by Codyne Industries'," finished Dylan.  
  
"Codyne Industries makes screws and fastening devices," said Mitchum.  
  
"That's what they are best known for and it was the first thing I thought of when Vivian told me at the Chief's house, but I think if you look at the company history they also made small arms under a government contract for a few years in the mid-eighties," said Dylan.  
  
Alex brought up an old newspaper article that she found on the sale of the Codyne Industries weapons manufacturing division being closed and the contract going to another firm dated 1985. "Looks like Dylan is right. So what you are saying Dylan, is that Vivian wants revenge on the manufacturer of the missile that nearly killed her? That IS insane."  
  
"Okay but from what Gloria said it has to be something else," said Mitchum. "Listen Dylan, your theory is good but the logic is flawed, even if she wanted revenge I was told it was to change the course of the world. I don't see what killing the man who was remotely.very remotely connected with her disfigurement."  
  
"How about this," asked Alex pulling up another article. "I found this today. Codyne Industries' CEO Donald Getty throws his hat into the ring for Presidential candidate," read Alex. "Donald Getty best known for his role as found and long time CEO of Codyne Industries is said to be announcing his run for President this week at the World Trade Show. Initial public opinion polls show that over seventy five percent favor his candidacy. Getty's platform consists of tax and welfare reform and extending the olive branch of peace to nations once considered enemies of the US. Getty said, 'I am a man of peace.' Yada Yada," said Alex. "Pretty much the jest of it is that he is against arms and for gun control and claims that his little 'nuts and bolts operation' is the most peaceful and least dangerous corporation in the US."  
  
"So she plans on assassinating a presidential candidate whose corporation manufactured the missile that nearly killed her," said Natalie.  
  
"One whose platform is peace. Nice," said Dylan. "If nothing else she will have him eliminated from the race even if she doesn't kill him by that fact alone. I wonder why no one else has brought up or thought to bring up the arms manufacturing of the 80's?"  
  
"We will be landing in a few minutes," said Nat. "Once we get Vivian we can find out more."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
They had been in the hotel a few hours. Vivian, the woman that she was despite the burns from the explosion was still a woman, she had recruited Jorge and her sister to go shopping with her on Michigan Avenue, the Gold Coast. Anthony didn't know what Daniels was up to and didn't care either as long as the man stayed out of his way. He had a bad feeling about the FBI agent; then again he had a bad feeling about everyone involved in this case. Normally there was at least one person per job that seemed sane and he hated to admit this but he was the sanest one of them this time. He gave a small chuckle at that thought.  
  
Anthony decided to scout the hotel. He had assumed it would be easier than the theater to kill the target. He took the elevator up to the floor below the top two levels which comprised the luxury towers and looked around. The ledge of the window at the end of the hall would provide him with the means to get up to the top floor undetected. He had no idea what the layout of the top floor of the luxury tower was like. He had done assignments like that before; they were usually all the more exciting. Just then he heard voices and ducked into the cleaning supply closet.  
  
"Wow this place is nice," bubbled Natalie. "Oh here I am I have room 1830."  
  
Anthony's eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. It took him a second and then he placed it, it was the blonde angel, Natalie. He opened the door a crack and looked out. "I've got 1825," said Alex. "What do you two gentlemen have," she asked.  
  
"1840 and 1842," replied Bosley.  
  
"It's nice how Charlie arranged rooms for us in the same hotel as Getty. I would have thought it was booked solid," said the blonde Angel struggling with the plastic card in the lock. "Too bad Dylan had to take a room on a different floor."  
  
Anthony's shoulders sagged in relief. The angel had survived. That was good of course, he thought to himself, but not good for his job. Even though he thought that Vivian, Matthews and Daniels were mad they also paid well and he would do what he was hired to do.  
  
The angels had entered their rooms and Anthony slowly opened the closet door and started to creep down to the elevator and back to his room. As he swung the door open he heard the elevator stop with a ding. He quickly ducked back inside leaving the door slightly ajar. Dylan exited the elevator wearing the same dress that had been given to her by Ruth Hudson. He quietly observed her knock on the dark haired angel's door. He would have loved to go to her but he held himself back. "I have a job to do I don't have time for her," he reminded himself. As she entered the room and the door closed behind her. He went on his way.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan plopped heavily on Alex's bed. "Nice," she said looking around the room and strolling over to the window. She had been placed on the eleventh floor and had a room with a lousy view, but Alex's had a nice one of Grant Park and Buckingham fountain. "Do you know when the clothes are arriving," she asked plucking the blue gingham dress away from her body. "It's not that I don't appreciate Mrs. Hudson's generous gift but I want my own stuff, something that is me and not Dorothy from the 'Wizard of Oz'."  
  
Alex stepped out of the bathroom and smiled, "Charlie said that he would have an associate bring our stuff by three o'clock. That gives us enough time to get ready for the speech Getty is giving tonight at the WTC."  
  
"If he is alive that long. Remember Vivian, Anthony and the rest have been here for hours now," stated Dylan.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Alex looked through the peephole and opened the door to Natalie who looked anxious. "Have either of you seen Mitchum?"  
  
"Not since we checked in ," said Dylan.  
  
"Not since he went into his room," replied Alex. "Why?"  
  
"I thought I heard his door so I went over to see if he wanted to go up to Getty's luxury tower so we could explain the situation. I thought it would be better if the FBI came, you guys know how men like Getty are, but there was no answer."  
  
"That's weird," said Alex. "He wouldn't go anywhere without telling us. He is too by the book for that."  
  
"I'm going to check around the hotel and see if I can find him. Maybe he just went to the lobby or restaurant," said Dylan going to the door.  
  
"I'll check his room," said Alex  
  
"Ok, I'll call the clothing man," said Natalie.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony went to the bar and ordered a brandy. There wasn't a lot to do except wait and he didn't want to wait in his room. He couldn't smoke there even though the receptionist had said that it was a smoking room it wasn't. As soon as he had lit up a neighbor with the nose of a bloodhound had yelled though the wall. He didn't want to draw attention. He hated watching TV which was nothing but court shows and Jerry Springer so he had come down to the bar and try to relax. He had just tossed back the last of what was in the glass and saw Daniels form leaving the hotel. Anthony walked over to the window and watched the man cross the street and puke on his shoes.  
  
Alex knocked again on Mitchum's door. "Mitchum? Agent Mitchum," she called. Still there was no answer. "Fine," she said and took the card to her own room and unscrewed the electronic control box on the door. She then quickly rewired it. She pressed down on the lever shaped handle and the door opened. The room was dark inside. Mitchum had drawn the curtains. The only light was that of the television set on the dresser playing the theme song from "All My Children". "Mitchum," she called again. That is when she saw him laying on the bed, his shirt covered with blood from the single bullet wound to his chest.  
  
Alex took the FBI agent' pulse but it was useless. She found the bullet stuck in the headboard of the bed and pried it out with the ice tongs that were in the ice bucket on the bedside table. She looked it over, and placed it in a shower cap she found in the bathroom. "That will keep it safe," she said, stuck the cap and bullet in her pocket, and then went back to her room to tell Natalie and wait for Dylan. 


	15. Steps

This chapter is another with a touch of romance. I should have been doing other things but I have been on a roll with this story. BTW Ch. 16 is almost complete. I just need to figure out how to end it.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony set his glass on the bar and exited the hotel. He crossed the street and entered the park. Daniels was sitting on a bench his head in his hands looking at his shoes. The Thin Man took a seat beside of him. They sat in silence for a few minutes then Daniels turned his head slowly and looked at the man who joined him. "I was sick," stated Daniels simply. Anthony simply arched an eyebrow and pulled out his pad and pen. He quickly scribbled a note and handed it to the rogue FBI agent.  
  
"Was he your first?" was written on the paper.  
  
Daniels looked at the man and crumpled the paper. He wondered how the silent assassin knew he had killed Mitchum. "There is no way he could know," he thought to himself as he contemplated the note that the man had given him. No one was around. No one saw him except maybe the bar tender might have noticed that he left the bar immediately after Mitchum did. "No, do you think I haven't shot someone before? I am an FBI agent."  
  
Anthony gave a snort and wrote again. Daniels might have been an agent but still young and fairly green from what he could tell. Green not only from lack of experience but green was the color of his face from what he had done. "You've killed 'bad guys' but have you ever killed a friend?"  
  
Daniels resented the little laugh like snot Anthony gave him. He had half a mind to shoot the assassin right then and there, but if Vivian found out he wouldn't be around too much longer either. "He was trying to stop me- to stop us. He could never understand," said Daniels. Anthony sighed the man was missing the point. It was never easy to kill someone you considered a friend even if you were on opposite sides. Throwing up on your shoes the first time was to be expected. He had done the same thing but he was twenty at the time not a man of Daniel's age. Now the problem was that the FBI agent was dead. That would alert security, make getting to Getty even harder, and put the angels on alert.  
  
Anthony wrote another note, "They are here." Daniels looked at the paper, "Who is here?" The Thin Man could see the realization as it crossed Daniels' face. "The Angels?" Anthony nodded in reply. "I suppose they don't realize that Dylan is dead yet. It's a shame that she jumped, I would have liked to get to know my sister," said Daniels watching the quiet assassin's face for a reaction and finding none. "I'm not heartless. From what I saw of her I liked. I think if the situation had been different." he said fading out. "Anyway," he continued. "Vivian said that they train and work as a team of three. One of them being missing will throw them off right?"  
  
Anthony debated on whether or not to tell the man Dylan was alive. He didn't know why but decided against it. Instead he wrote, "Would make them stronger," on the paper. He justified not telling him Dylan was alive as keeping Daniels on his toes and preventing him from messing things up more than he already did.  
  
Daniels stood and straightened his suit. "I think I'm ready to go back now. You want a drink," he asked. "I'm buying." Anthony shook his head "Suit yourself," said Daniels shrugging. Anthony just sat on the bench and stared across the park at the blue horizon where the sky kissed the lake.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan, having no luck locating Mitchum headed back upstairs. As she reached the elevator the janitor placed an "out of order" sign on each of them. The older man smiled and said in a Polish accent, "Sorry the inspector comes today. You have to take the stairs. A day early. Always a day early."  
  
She thanked the man and entered the stairwell. She looked upwards at the flights she had to climb and sighed in resignation, "Great, just great," and began her trip up. As she rounded the tenth floor she met Jorge on his way down.  
  
"You!" Yelled the chief's all around, good for everything man and attacked her.  
  
Dylan dodged and ducked his punches. She used the banister to her advantage, to swing upwards and propel herself into his chest. Jorge flew back against the wall with a grunt. "Bitch!"  
  
"No you must have me confused with Vivian," Dylan said as she hit him in the face with the heel of her hand. She could feel the cartilage in his nose give with a large crack. Blood flowed freely down his face. He attacked again, and threw he against the fire door of the 8th floor. She hit her head hard and saw stars briefly swim before her eyes. "Now I know how Sylvester feels," she thought as she defended off his blows switching positions with him. Finally she got the leverage she needed from the windowsill and kicked outwards with both feet slamming him into the door she had hit moments before. He cracked his head on the door handle and slid unconscious to the floor.  
  
Dylan took one last glance and headed back up to the 18th floor. She stopped in the hallway and tried to catch her breath before seeing the other angels, too bad Bosley saw her first. "Where have you been," he asked taking her hand and leading her towards Mitchum's room.  
  
"Looking for Mitchum," she said in between pants. "I have to work out more often," she said to herself.  
  
"Alex already found him," he told her as he opened the door. Alex and Natalie were standing over the body with a two police officers.  
  
"This is our friend Dylan Sanders," said Natalie. "Dylan these are officers Fredrickson and Willis."  
  
"What happened," Dylan asked.  
  
Officer Fredrickson opened his mouth to speak but Alex got in ahead of him. "Someone killed him at close range with a silenced .38. Probably someone our friend Vivian is with."  
  
"We need to keep this low key," said Dylan.  
  
"Why," asked Office Fredrickson, "this is a big deal. An FBI officer killed the day of the WTC in the same hotel and only two floors below Donald Getty."  
  
"It will make it easier to catch who did this if they don't think we are after them," said Natalie.  
  
"I'll have to check with our superior," said Willis. He radioed in and the answer came back as be as discrete as possible. Apparently Charlie had already contacted the appropriate authorities in the Windy City.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony walked up the stairs to his rooms. Jorge had since woken up and gone to his mistress, Vivian. Anthony knew that Mitchum was dead and cops would be there. If he knew that surely the angels were to know as well. He hated trying to guess what they would do, their unpredictability was unsettling. He assumed it had to do with their three distinct personalities but it was still difficult. He went back to the floor the angels' rooms were on and entered a room that the maid was leaving. She assumed that he was the guest who was staying there and didn't say anything. Anthony watched from the doorway the two officers going in and out unseen. The dark haired angel, Alex and the blonde, Natalie left and went to the room down the hall. Dylan was the last one out and shut the door to Mitchum's room for the last time and she spotted him.  
  
Dylan did a double take. She couldn't believe his nerve, standing there watching them and the police. As she approached him he just stood there watching her with his cool blue eyes. "What are you doing," she hissed at him angrily "Did you kill him?". He didn't reply, he just reached out and touched her hair which was pulled back in a ponytail except for the lock he had his hand on. His touch gave her chills and she felt warmth spread through the pit of her stomach. He wound the strand around his fingers. Dylan shivered from the intensity of his stare. "No," she told herself, "No, not until this is over and not then even." "Just one kiss Dylan," the other part of her said, the illogical part, the part that always fell for the bad guys, "It wouldn't hurt."  
  
He tugged lightly on the hair wrapped around his index finger, and Dylan said, "No," firmly. She wasn't in the mood to have her hair ripped from her scalp. He didn't let go, he pulled her close to him and placed his lips firmly over hers. Part of her brain told her to struggle but the illogical part won out. She reached up and pulled his head closer to her. The sound of a door opening caused them to tear apart, and he took the coveted lock as he pushed her away closing the room door in-between them.  
  
"Dylan, what are you doing out here in the hall," asked Natalie as Dylan rubbed the side of her head where the hair was now gone.  
  
Dylan hoped that Natalie didn't notice her flushed face. "Uh, I thought I lost my room key and I was looking for it, but nope here it is." She then took off down the hall towards the stairs, her mind somewhere other than on the case at hand. Natalie stared after her wondering why her friend was acting so oddly.  
  
On her way back to her room she realized he hadn't answered her question. Or maybe he had. After all she doubt he would have kissed her if he had.  
  
Anthony sat on the bed in the strange room. He hadn't meant to kiss her it happened. He needed to get his control back. There was something about her that made him lose it. He knew that killing Getty would allow him to get it back, to reclaim the darkness that he had nurtured and which had protected him through the years. Did he really want to? Was he strong enough to let go of the darkness? He really wondered. 


	16. Bonding

If you maybe pitied Vivian before I don't think you will for long. I want to thank my friend Inga for the use of her name and reviewing this chapter.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Up two floors above them, in his luxury tower, Donald Getty was getting ready. It was a big night for him. It was the night he would announce his candidacy and in the process bring the value of his stocks up. In front of the mirror he worked on his tie. Even after thirty years he still had difficulties with Windsor knots. As he was struggling her secretary came into the room, a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Mr. Getty? Sir?"  
  
Getty turned and faced the stammering man. "What is it Mr. Bell," he asked his secretary. "Damn blasted knot. Here you do it. I knew I should have brought Inga along for this."  
  
The secretary grabbed the two ends of the tie and made a perfect, elegant knot. "There was an FBI agent killed today."  
  
"So what? FBI agents are killed everyday. Its part of the risk they take my boy." Getty walked over to the deep red wing backed chair and sat down with a glass of bourbon. "It happens."  
  
"B-but you don't understand sir. There are some people here to see you about it," replied the timid man.  
  
"To see me," Getty started to ask.  
  
"To see you," said Alex.  
  
Donald Getty looked up to find three women standing in his door way. Had he been a few years younger and in better condition he would have gladly welcomed them. As it was he had enough to worry about without these three, although lovely, ladies interrupting his quiet time meditating with his bourbon before the big event. "I can assure you Miss." He paused waiting for her to introduce herself.  
  
"Munday, Alex Munday. These are my associated Dylan Sanders and Natalie Cook. We are with Charles Townsend Investigations."  
  
"As I was saying I can assure you Ms Munday that I didn't kill the FBI agent."  
  
"That maybe Mr. Getty," said Dylan, "but there are people out there who want to kill you."  
  
Getty sat for a moment as though he was thinking about her statement. "Powerful men make enemies. It's natural. I am sure many people out there want to kill me and many more will in the future."  
  
"These people are serious about it," said Dylan. "They have hired an assassin."  
  
Getty looked at the young woman in front of him. She reminded him of someone. He shook the feeling off and continued. "Ladies, I have my share of body guards. Even though I make nothing more than nuts and bolts I have loonies occasionally come after me. I am well protected from them." Getty started to walk away from them and signaled Mr. Bell to show them out.  
  
"This isn't about nuts and bolts," said Alex shrugging off Bell's hand. "This is about missiles that Codyne made in the eighties."  
  
Getty stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned to the angels and looked them over. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Bell looked back and forth between his employer and the guests. He had never seen Donald Bartholomew Getty look frightened before. He liked the look of his boss that way, "A bite of humble pie never hurt anyone," the secretary thought to himself.  
  
Dylan decided to explain, "Codyne Industries made small arms and missiles on a government contract from 80-85 when suddenly they stopped. Apparently other than a few newspaper articles the evidence of it has gone down the memory hole."  
  
Getty turned to Bell. "Mr. Bell, could you please excuse us for a moment. We will be leaving for the conference at six thirty." Bell did as he was told although longing to know what exactly was going on.  
  
"Contract 54-P2-5," he said refilling his glass by the bar. "A mistake if ever there was one. We thought it was a governmental contract but it wasn't. The man we dealt with was with the government but had his own agenda. Once I found that out I never delivered the last two thousand or so missiles and they were repainted and sold to civilians pretty much through Army Surplus stores. We decided that the public should never know and since then our reputation has been clean. Like I said just a nuts and bolts operation."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony entered Vivian's room, 1710, to which he had received a summons. She was holding a hand held mirror and looking at her reflection. Anthony watched her quietly and saw the tears in her eyes. He felt a bit sorry for her. Then she threw the mirror it smashed against the wall with a crash. The bits of glass tinkled like chimes to the floor. Vivian swallowed hard and turned to see the assassin. She straightened up the best she could in her chair and all traces of the woman from the moment before were gone. "Anthony, you are here sooner than expected. Come closer."  
  
Anthony did what he was told and stepped closer to the woman. "Kiss me," she said. He stared at Vivian unmoving from his position within the doorway. "I am a woman with needs too. Even you won't touch me now. Not even a freak can love a freak," she said giving a hollow laugh. "Are you thinking about that angel? Anthony, I always could read you. You don't think that a girl like that could have cared for a man like you do you? A silent freak with a hair fetish? What woman in her right mind would want a man who ripped her hair out every time he got close to her? Think about it and you will know the answer and hopefully it will get you focused on the case. Jorge said she is here and alive, how could she have survived that jump? Those angels have more lives than cats." She watched him turn to leave.  
  
Whatever bit of pity he felt for her when he entered the room was gone. If she hadn't been the one signing the check he would have run her through just for the Hell of it. "Remember we'll always have Beverly Hills," she called out laughing. He cringed inwardly at the reference to their brief affair when they had first met and continued on his way.  
  
He climbed opened the room window and looked out to the west. It was getting late and the sun was setting on the horizon backlighting the Sears Tower. He stood there and took a deep breath he could feel the blood whizzing through his ears; part in anger over what Vivian had said part in excitement of the kill. "Vivian was right, the children at the orphanage were right," he thought. "I am a freak. Why would Dylan ever want someone like me?" His thoughts just made him angrier and more ready to use the anger on Getty.  
  
He went into the hall just as the elevator nearest his room opened. The waiter inside smiled, "Oops wrong floor I need the 19th." The door started to slide shut but Anthony stuck his cane in between and stopped them. He stepped in and the doors slid closed with a hiss. The elevator rose slowly but didn't stop on the 19th floor. It came to a stop on the 20th and Anthony exited the lift, the waiter unconscious on the floor.  
  
He walked down the hall and knocked on the door to Getty's room. There was no answer so he let himself in. He looked around the expensively decorated apartment suite. Anthony heard a noise, stopped and withdrew his sword from the cane covering. As the man came around the corner he ran the sword through his heart. The man with the sword protruding in his chest looked up from the book he was carrying, surprise written across his face. Anthony pulled the sword out and looked at the man on the floor. It was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bell, Donald Getty's secretary was now dead.  
  
Anthony cleaned his sword on a towel from the bathroom and slid it back into its case. "Damn," he thought. He would have to take care of his assignment at the WTC after all. Maybe backstage before the man went on. Without the gun and the virus there was a greater chance he would be seen. He didn't need that. He left the room and took the elevator back down to the 17th floor to get ready for the speech that Getty would be given.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The angels convinced Getty to let them escort him to the Arie Crown Theater instead of his secretary Mr. Bell. On the way to the theater Alex went over the plan they had with the mulit-millionaire, "I am going to watch the entrance, Bosley will watch the back exits, Natalie will be up in the press area and Dylan will stay with, you."  
  
Getty looked skeptically at the young women. He found it hard to believe that he was going to trust them but they seemed to know what they were doing. It was an added plus that he had heard of their boss Charles Townsend and that the agency was highly recommended, but still three beautiful young women against a what sounded like a group of crazed people out to kill him? He was nervous. The angels tried to reassure him but it didn't work very well.  
  
Getty's driver stopped at the red carpet to let Dylan and Mr. Getty out of the limousine. The walked the red carpet as the other dignitaries of the night did. Once they entered the building they were automatically ushered back stage. "So Dylan, is it?" She nodded yes and letting him know that was her name. "You told me about the crazy woman who is after me but how many does she have with her?"  
  
"She has her sister who was an FBI agent, a body guard, an assassin, and another person who wants revenge on you," she said not quite knowing how to tell him that his son was the last person.  
  
"And who might that be," he asked. He saw her hesitate. "I am an old man Dylan, I know I have made enemies who is it?"  
  
"Michael Daniels." There she had said it.  
  
"Michael Daniels.Michael Daniels," then his eyes widened. "Little Mikey Daniels?"  
  
"Then you know who he is," she said.  
  
"I know who his mother told him he was. It was a delusion of hers. I never slept with Henny Daniels. She accused me of sexual harassment before it was en vogue. She was actually the one harassing me. I turned her down and she claimed that her son was mine," he said and noticed her disbelieving reaction. "I know you don't believe me. I wouldn't expect you to. Hell I know it sounds like a load of crap but it's the truth. If they had had the quality paternity test then like they had today this would have been sorted out years ago."  
  
"My father was never in the picture either," said Dylan unsure why she was opening up to the millionaire. "I was luck to have my mom, even if it was only for a few years. I imagine it is harder for a boy to grow up without a father though."  
  
"Did you ever meet your father," he asked looking at the young woman.  
  
"No, my mom told me once before she died that he was living in castle in the sky. Of course I was only four or five so I know that wasn't true but.well it was a nice image," said Dylan sadly.  
  
"So," he said, "any special young man in your life."  
  
Dylan gave him a look that said, "you've gotta be joking". "Sorry if you think I am prying. I always get nervous before a speech and talk a lot. Ask Mr. Bell. I think that is the main reason I keep him around," Getty answered in response to her look.  
  
"Well, there is a guy I sort of like," said Dylan thinking of the Thin Man.  
  
"Well let's hear about him," he said sitting on a metal folding chair. Dylan smoother her long green evening dress down and sat on the chair opposite of him. "What does he look like?"  
  
"This is weird," said Dylan with a laugh. "It's what I imagined talking to my dad would be like when I was a teen." Getty gave her an encouraging look. "Okay. He is tall thin, my friends think he is creepy and I admit I did too at first. He has these blue eyes," continued Dylan getting a far away look on her face, "they are a pale blue color. He has a couple bad habits, he smokes and."  
  
"Mr. Getty," interrupted a backstage assistant, "they are ready for you in make up."  
  
"I'll be right there," he said to the young woman. "Come with me, Dylan. I'm very interested in hearing about this young man."  
  
Dylan accompanied him to make up. "I really don't know what to say about him."  
  
"Do you love him," asked the older man.  
  
"I don't know, I think I might," replied Dylan surprised not only at her own feelings but at the fact Donald Getty was easy to talk to and that she genuinely liked him.  
  
"I was in love once with a beautiful young woman, but I married another because I was afraid she would cause me to lose my status in society. I do love Inga, my wife, I do but not like I loved Rhonda."  
  
"We start in a half an hour, you're on after the CEO of Sony," said the assistant to Getty.  
  
"Yes, yes. I'll be right there. What I am trying to say Dylan, is don't let love pass you by. You might become my age and regretting it."  
  
Dylan watched the man walk off towards the stage and realized that his lost love and her mom had the same name. She tapped the mouth mike with her tongue. "Nat, Alex, Bos? It starts in 30."  
  
"Okay copy that," said Natalie, struggling to get the top on her strapless dress to stay up.  
  
"Got it," said Alex fending off the advances of a young man.  
  
"Right on," said Bosley shooing some autograph hounds away from the back entrance. He wondered who would want a politician's autograph anyway. 


	17. The Shot

This is for Jess and Barbayat ( I hope that you find this chapter as exciting as it is meant to be. I thought that it would be better if I posted 17 & 18 together tomorrow so you gals get .yes a cliffy ending. Yes I am cruel! Working on the next one now so you won't have to wait too long.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony changed his clothes and put on the tuxedo which was delivered earlier. According to the brochure that Gloria had given him earlier, the dress code was black tie. He patted his hair down, grabbed his sword and exited to join the others. Only Daniels was missing. "Where is he," scowled Vivian. "No matter, if he isn't there he isn't there. Jorge we are leaving without him."  
  
Daniels ran out of the elevator. When he got to the group he was out of breath and panting. Triumphantly he held up a small, black, hard plastic case. "Look at what I found."  
  
"Is that what I think it is," asked Matthews trying to take it from his grasp.  
  
Daniels lifted it up and away from her reach. "Yes, now hands off Gloria. We don't want you to have an accident."  
  
"Where did you get that," the female agent asked.  
  
"Let's just say it's a gift from Heaven," retorted Daniels opening the case discretely. Inside was the gun and the two virus darts nestled safely in there foam bed. "Anthony buddy," he said slapping the Thin Man on the shoulder. "Thanks for the support this afternoon. When you said the Angels were still alive I knew you must have seen them here. Just a few flashes of my badge allowed me to find out which rooms they were in. Looks like my little sister is predictable she had it in her room."  
  
"And it wasn't locked away," inquired Gloria.  
  
"Well.It was in the room safe but you know how safe those are."  
  
Anthony wondered if the others see it in Daniels eyes. They were dilated and glassy, the man was high. He could only imagine on what. He gave Daniels an awkward half smile and asked in writing for the dart gun. Too bad Daniels didn't want to give it up- "I don't think so buddy. Since the angel went AWOL I am back-up. If I have a chance I'm going to take it and kill Getty."  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow to him and glared at Vivian. She took a sip of the oxygen bottle on the back of her wheelchair and said, "I don't care how it gets done. I prefer the virus, that was the plan but if you kill him with the sword." she paused and shrugged the best she could.  
  
He was getting tired of this it was his job and he was going to do it and get paid for it. Anthony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He unsheathed his sword so quickly it couldn't be seen but the whistle of speeding through the air could be heard. The tip was pointed at Daniels throat. He held his free hand out and waited for Daniels to hand him the case. He was an assassin but this was something that he didn't trust a man strung out on drugs with.  
  
Daniels' Adams apple bobbed up and down against the tip as he swallowed back the fear Anthony instilled in him at the moment. "Sure, whatever," Daniels said holding the case out to Anthony who slipped his three middle fingers under the handle in acceptance. Anthony put the sword away as quickly as he had withdrawn it.  
  
Seconds later Jorge pulled up with the limousine. He assisted Vivian into to car and stowed her chair in the trunk. In the car Anthony placed the case on his lap and prepared the gun with the virus dart. "Watch where you are aiming that," complained Matthews. Anthony just glared at her. Too many people thought they were in charge on this job. As far as he was concerned although he barely liked her Vivian was the only one he had to answer to and how much he liked or didn't like her was irrelevant. He placed the gun in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket.  
  
It didn't take long despite the traffic around McCormick Place to get there. As the car pulled up to the red carpet Jorge got out and removed Vivian's chair and helped her in. "Anthony, do what I pay you to do. Gloria and I will be in the audience watching, Daniels here," she handed the FBI agent a phony press pass. "You are with the Tacoma Times." Daniels fumbled with the pass and it fell to the carpet. He and Anthony both reached for it at the same time. Anthony never noticed the agents hand steal the small pistol out of his pocket and slip it into his own.  
  
"Thanks," Daniels said as Anthony handed him the pass. Then he started on his way inside.  
  
Alex turned and saw Daniels go straight to the door show his press pass and walk inside. "The eagle has landed," she said into her molar mike.  
  
"I see him," said Natalie in the press box, "Daniels is headed my way."  
  
"It looks like he has a press pass," said Alex.  
  
Vivian and Gloria passed her next. Alex could hardly believe that the woman in the wheelchair was the same woman who hired them three years earlier. Neither woman saw her and for that she was lucky. Alex scanned the crowd. "I don't see the Creepy Thin Man," she said.  
  
"It looks like Vivian and her sister are taking seats in the audience," said Natalie from her position. "How is everything going with you Dylan?"  
  
"Things are good back here. Getty is going over his speech. No sign of trouble yet. Alex, Anthony has to be around somewhere. Bosley, any sign."  
  
"Just a big old sign for 'Malta: The heart of the Mediterranean', but of the bad guys? Nothing and for summer it's getting chilly out here."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Getty practiced his speech, "And therefore I throw my hat into the ring and am running as an independent presidential candidate for 2008. How did that sound," he asked Dylan as she came up behind him.  
  
"That was great," she said although she had only been half listening.  
  
Getty looked at the young woman in front of him. He had known there was something about her from the moment he had seen her. It had taken him awhile to put his finger on it but it had come to him rather quickly once they began talking. She was the spitting image of her mother although her hair was red and not the silver blonde her mother's was. He was sure she hadn't realized yet that she was his daughter although he had tried to tell her. Of course her mind was on the job of protecting him but he wanted her to know. How to tell her was the question.  
  
Anthony found a place in box one left of the stage. He assumed that would give him a good place to take aim and eliminate the CEO of Codyne Industries. He looked at the program; he would be fine if the speeches before Getty's didn't put him to sleep. He sat back in the empty box that had been entirely rented for this project and looked around the theater. He glanced up at the press box which was on the other side of the auditorium and a blond in a dazzling red dress caught his eye. It was Natalie. He was surprised that Daniels, who he could see seated not to far from her, had not noticed but then again the man was so high he could have been hit by a bus and not have realized it.  
  
The lights flashed slowly signaling to everyone to take their seats. The roar of the crowd died down to a low murmur and the lights dimmed for the last time. The Master of Ceremonies was Donald Trump. "Good evening ladies and Gentlemen," he began. "Welcome to the World Trade Conference Arie Crown Theater, McCormick Place, Chicago, Illinois; USA, North American, Planet Earth," he chuckled at what he thought was a funny reference to "Our Town". "Tonight we are kicking off the WTC with boring activities such as the speeches by our most prominent members. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond their control our first two speakers, Ben and Jerry, are unable to be here this evening." The crowd gave a disappointed groan. "No matter," continued Mr. Trump, "we will start with Kunal Dasgupta CEO of Sony Entertainment Television. The crowd applauded loudly and the CEO of Sony took the stage.  
  
Backstage, Getty and Dylan were still discussing his speech. "Dylan," he said softly resting his hand on her shoulder, "There is something we need to talk about before I go on stage."  
  
"Mr. Getty. It will be fine. We are good at what we do. I seriously doubt that anyone will be able to hurt you," she said with a smile. "Natalie has Daniels, Vivian and Matthews in her sight. We aren't sure where the assassin is but we all have our eyes open for him." Then she thought to herself, "especially me."  
  
"Dylan, Dasgupta is finishing up his speech now," whispered Natalie in her ear.  
  
"Already," she asked.  
  
Alex entered the theater. "I've got the Thin Man. He is in box one."  
  
"Great," said Dylan a perfect place for him to attack from. "Okay got it. Mr. Getty you are on soon and we found the assassin. Don't worry. He won't get you."  
  
"Dylan," Getty called out as he was being lead to the wing of the stage. "I have to tell you."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Out on stage the CEO of Sony was making his closing remarks, "In conclusion, with today's trends the economic forecasts will always be bright. Thank you." The audience applauded enthusiastically to the man's speech and Mr. Trump came back out and clapped Mr. Dasgupta on the back.  
  
"Well, that was a cheery prediction for the future. Now we have a Chicagoland native, the President and CEO of Codyne Industries, and a man with the same first name as me, Donald Getty."  
  
Getty walked out on the stage and shook Trump's hand. As he approached the podium he scanned the audience and saw his daughter, Dylan down on the floor near the bottom right corner of the stage. She nodded to him and he wished he could find away to tell her all he needed to.  
  
Anthony in the box above Dylan's head reached into his jacket pocket for the pistol. It wasn't there. He checked again. "What the Hell?" he thought. He looked at his sword. He was pretty good if he had to throw it he could. He had done it before. He couldn't imagine where he lost the pistol though then it dawned on him. In his mind's eye he saw Daniels fumble with the press pass and they both bent for it. "Shit, he has the gun," rang though his mind.  
  
"Dylan," called Natalie. "Daniels is on the move. I'm after him."  
  
"Roger that Nat," she said, "I have my eye on Anthony."  
  
"Ok you two, I'm coming from the other direction," said Alex. Too bad before she could head towards the other side of the stage Daniels came up behind her. "Shit," he said seeing her."  
  
"Before I begin this speech," began Getty on the stage, "I want to make an announcement. This might affect what I have to say later but I need to say it. Years ago I had an affair. I won't say it was a mistake because it wasn't. I truly loved the woman and she had a baby; a lovely little girl. I was an ass and denied this child for years. It was my own foolishness. I have recently met her and I want to claim her if she will have me for her father."  
  
Dylan looked up at the stage. The realization of what he was saying beginning to dawn on her. "Dylan Sanders is my daughter." Getty motioned at the angel standing near the stage. A spot light shown on the red-haired angel who looked up at the stage in surprise. Getty walked to the edge of it and offered her his hand. She took it in shock and walked up the small set of stairs on the side of the stage. The auditorium was flooded with applause.  
  
Daniels attacked Alex catching her completely off guard. She went down hitting her head on the back of one of the seats in the last row and blacked out. He continued his way down the aisle to the front of the theater and pulled the dart gun out of his jacket and took aim. Natalie jumped him from the side but it was too late. The gun went off and from the Thin Man's throat erupted his first spoken word since he was a child. "No!" 


	18. Aftermath

Okay the cliffy ending was evil I admit it but I know you liked it. Admit it. So here is Ch. 18.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The gun went off, a few women on the floor screamed in fear. Dylan lunged at Getty sending both of them toppling onto the stage. "No," the first word spoken since his childhood erupted from the Thin Man's throat. He leaped from the box, did a flip and landed on the stage near the crumpled pair. Anthony reached down and pulled the dart from Dylan's arm. She wasn't moving.  
  
Getty removed himself from underneath his newly found daughter. "Dylan," he asked tears in his eyes as he rolled her over.  
  
Anthony thought she had never looked more like an angel than she did at that moment. Her fiery hair, a riot of curls spread out on the stage forming a halo around her head. Her red bow lips slightly parted. He gently touched her cheek, and jerked his hand back. She felt like she was on fire, the virus was catching hold.  
  
Getty stood and called out to the audience, "Is there a doctor? We need a doctor." His voice was filled with urgency and anguish.  
  
Vivian's voice rang out through the hall. "A doctor won't help her now." Jorge appeared and wheeled her to the middle of the main aisle.  
  
Natalie who was busy turning Daniels over to the police officers, who were there for security, watched Vivian. Alex and Bosley stood speechless as Vivian removed a gun from her purse. "You brought this on yourself," she called to the man on stage. "Donald Getty, man of peace." Vivian laughed a contemptuous laugh. "This is what your peace did to me. Do you see me Mr. Getty? Erase all the evidence of your misdeeds you want it will always come back eventually. This," she said addressing the audience. "Is what Donald Getty's peace is. He and his company made the missile that did this to me. If he hadn't signed that fake government contract and had to black-market the missiles made for it this wouldn't have happened." The auditorium was silent as she continued. "You should be thanking me for reuniting you with your precious, little girl."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
After Getty's request for a doctor, a man from the audience climbed up on stage. He placed his hand on Dylan's forehead. "My God, the girl is burning up. What the hell, happened?" Anthony signaled to the dart. He pulled out his medical bag and took her blood pressure. We need an ambulance. Has anyone called for one? Anthony shrugged. The doctor pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-11.  
  
"Dylan," Anthony whispered as he held her hand. He knew he wasn't worthy of her, Vivian reminded him of that, but he couldn't help, no matter how hard her tried, how he felt about the angel. He had denied his feelings over and over until they became too obvious even for himself to ignore.  
  
She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and smiled a weak smile. "You talked." He nodded. He wished he could help her. He didn't know what to do and if the virus worked as fast as Vivian said it would there was no time to help her anyway. Her eyes roamed to the doctor. "It's a virus," Dylan said coughing.  
  
"A virus, how do you know that? Is it contagious," he asked the girl. Dylan was tired. She wanted to answer his questions. It might be the only way she could survive this but she couldn't stay awake. She closed her eyes again.  
  
The doctor turned to Anthony, "We need to get her backstage. Can you carry her?" Again Anthony nodded. He knelt to pick her up but a gunshot ringing though the theater stopped him.  
  
"You aren't taking her anywhere Anthony," called Vivian. "Leave her there so everyone can watch her die for her father's mistake." Getty looked at the Thin Man. So he was the assassin the angels had warned him about. He then realized that the man also met the description of the man his daughter said she loved. He looked at the thin man's body language and realized it was obvious that the man loved his daughter as well.  
  
"Natalie," said Alex into the molar mike. "I'm going for the body guard. You go for Gloria. We can both go for Vivian."  
  
Natalie slipped down an aisle, around by the wall and approached from the back of the room. Alex did the same thing on the other side the theater. Jorge saw her coming and fended off her attack. Natalie went for Gloria. The FBI agent fired her gun. "Get down," hollered Natalie to the audience, but they had underestimated Vivian as she placed the gun against Natalie's spine. "I wouldn't move if I were you," she said to the blonde angel. "In fact I think you are good collateral to get out of here. Call off your friend." Natalie didn't move. Vivian pushed the gun into her back harder, "I said call off your friend."  
  
"Alex!"  
  
Alex kept fighting Jorge. "Alex," yelled Natalie louder. The Asian angel and the bodyguard stopped. "Alex be a dear and have a seat," said Vivian motioning to a Gloria's now vacant place. Alex sat down thinking to herself, "Dylan was right before, Vivian is insane."  
  
Natalie looked up at the scene on stage. The millionaire was on his knees looking at Dylan's lifeless body. The doctor was holding Dylan's wrist, checking her pulse. The Thin Man was standing watching the action on the floor of the theater. That is when Natalie got an idea. She had always been amazed at how well he could communicate with eye. She only hoped she could get her idea across to him half as well.  
  
Anthony looked at his angel laying on the stage and felt the anger welling up inside of him. He looked at Vivian and knew if she escaped tonight she wouldn't escape him, not for long. Then the angel called Natalie caught his eye. She kept looking at his hand and at Vivian. He understood what she wanted and he would gladly oblige. He said a silent prayer, something he hadn't done in ages, and pulled the sword from its sheath. He knew the length of the blade would make it awkward especially at the distance, and he hoped that everyone stayed where they were.  
  
"What are you going to do with that Anthony," crowed Vivian. "You take one step off that stage and I'll kill the other two angels as well." Anthony lowered the sword. "I never figured you as one to have a soft spot for them. Because of them you nearly died too, because of Getty. Did you forget you were there when the missile exploded too? Remember your jacket catching on fire? Just like a man, being led by his." she was interrupted by Dylan throwing up behind him. "Looks like the virus is going into phase two."  
  
Anthony turned looking at Dylan and heard the doctor said to Getty, "Turn her head so she doesn't choke to death." Dylan's skin was a pale ash color. Anthony turned back to Vivian and let out a scream as he raised the sword and threw it much like a knife throwing act at a circus. The blade whistled through the air. Natalie jumped to the side, and Vivian's eye grew wide as the sword penetrated her chest, puncturing her heart with its razor sharp tip.  
  
Matthews screamed, "You bastard!" The two shots she fired towards the stage missing Anthony completely. She then dropped to her knees and cried over her deceased sister. The police came in and arrested Gloria and the Jorge and the angels ran to the stage.  
  
"Dylan," called the angels in unison standing around her. "Will she be okay," Natalie asked the doctor.  
  
"Honestly I don't know. I haven't seen anything like this before."  
  
"She said it was a virus, it was supposed to be fast acting and kill quickly. Dylan said something about it causing the body to lose all its fluids," said Alex to the doctor.  
  
"That will help, when the ambulance gets here I can tell the paramedics to hook her up to an IV and we can replenish her so she doesn't dehydrate, but right now I am worried about her fever."  
  
Anthony stood off to the side watching. He blamed himself for her condition. "If I hadn't lost the gun to Daniels. If I had beaten her at the competition. If if if. " He knew it was only time until he was arrested for the murder of Vivian Woods if he stayed around. Leaving Dylan was something he didn't want to do but had to. He hoped that once she was taken to a hospital her condition would change. In the chaos of the paramedics coming onto the stage he snuck out of the theater and disappeared into the night.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The angels, Bosley, and Getty sat in the waiting room waiting for word on Dylan's condition. Six hours had passed and there was no change in her condition for better or worse. Hopeful looks crossed their faces every time a doctor or nurse would come out of the door marked "Hospital Staff Only". "I can't take this," said Alex standing and pacing. "What are we going to do if she doesn't make it?"  
  
"Don't talk that way Alex. Dylan is stronger than she looks," said Natalie. "Gosh I wish Pete was here."  
  
"Did someone call?"  
  
Natalie and Alex turned to see Pete and Jason standing in next to the vending machines. They each ran to their respective boyfriends. "What are you doing here," asked Alex.  
  
Jason looked to Pete for permission to tell. Pete nodded for him to go on. "Charlie called us and told us what happened. He said we should go to the airport and tickets were waiting for us."  
  
"So here we are," said Pete.  
  
"And Spike?"  
  
"Max will be checking in on him."  
  
The door that they had been closely watching opened and Dr. Johnson, from the theater came out. Getty spotted him first. "Is there any change?"  
  
"What is the virus," asked Alex.  
  
The doctor held up his hands to try to quiet them. He knew they had tons of questions for which they wanted answers. "First her condition is unchanged, she is stable but the fever is still very high. Second, the virus is designer. It was made to target a specific persons' DNA. I assume that person is you Mr. Getty."  
  
Natalie leaned over and whispered in Pete's ear. "Getty is her father."  
  
The doctor continued, "It's not affecting her the same way it would affect you because well obviously she isn't you. It is still affecting her because she is your daughter. I think that had someone else became infected it would manifest itself as nothing more than a mild case of the flu. We hope at this point to keep her stable and let it run its course."  
  
"And if it gets worse," asked Alex.  
  
"We pray it doesn't," answered the doctor. 


	19. Dimitri

Nineteen. What a nice number but we aren't done yet. I wasn't planning on posting this today, I didn't think I would have time but here it is anyway.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Anthony bought a ticket on the first flight to Los Angeles and arrived a few hours later. He hated not knowing how Dylan was but an old contact of his in Chicago said he would keep Anthony apprised of what was going on with the angels condition. "Sometimes having a questionable job has benefits," thought the Thin Man as he drove in his black Z4 north up the Pacific Coast Highway to visit another old contact.  
  
Anthony wasn't even sure if Dimitri still lived in the same location. It had been years since he had seen the old man but he knew if anyone could help Dylan it would be him. He had met Dimitri when right after he had left the orphanage and the old Russian had quickly become a mentor to young Anthony. Dimitri had been a top military scientist in the Brezhnev era until he "defected" in 1982. In reality the man hadn't defected but was a spy for the USSR until its collapse. He taught Anthony sword play, and trained him in hand to hand combat.  
  
Now Anthony zipped along the winding road breaking the speed limit and several other traffic laws but he didn't care. They weren't the first laws he had broken. He patted the pocket of the tuxedo he was still wearing, to make sure the second viral dart was still there. He didn't want to lose it Dimitri would need something to use to make a cure with. If making a cure was possible.  
  
He pulled his car up into the driveway, overgrown with tangles of branches and vines not caring if the paint was scratched. Dimitri's old LeBaron was in the garage. Anthony shook his head; Dimitri could never remember to close the garage door. He hopped out of the convertible, rushed to the door and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again harder knowing that the Russian's hearing had been declining over the years, yet no one came to the door. He sat defeated on the porch and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't had much sleep over the past couple days and it was starting to catch up with him.  
  
"Anton! Is that you?"  
  
Anthony turned his head and there stood Dimitri Aleskandrov. The man looked much older than Anthony remembered of course it had been five years. He berated himself for ignoring the man all that time. Dimitri came closed and clapped an arthritic hand on Anthony's shoulder. "Come let us go in and you can write me a novel about where you have been and what you have been doing," he said with a laugh and opened the weather worn door.  
  
Anthony stood and followed the old man into the once fabulous house. The hallway dingy and everything seemed to be covered with a layer of dust. Dimitri led them into the living room. "I haven't had a maid in years, Irena quit in.when was that.right, that was after the last time you visited and I never managed to find anyone I liked as well as her. Come, come, have a seat."  
  
Anthony sat on the olive green velvet sofa and pulled out his small notebook and pen. "Would you like some tea," asked the Russian. Anthony shook his head 'no'. "It's already made. It is perhaps a bit cold but iced tea is good too, no?"  
  
The quiet assassin quickly wrote, "No thank you. I am here on urgent business."  
  
"Ah young people, everything is so urgent. Hurry hurry hurry. Especially you Anton, you need to find yourself a young woman who likes you for who you are and settle down. Have some children." Dimitri said as he watched Anthony scribble a note and take the dart from his pocket.  
  
"What is this," asked the old man taking the items from his friend. He read the note: "I need a cure for this. It's very important."  
  
"Anton. I would love to help you. You know you are the son I never had, but my eyes. They aren't so good anymore. Work with the microscopes is difficult."  
  
Anthony wrote another note, "Have I asked you for anything before?"  
  
"No Anton you haven't. I see this is very important. I will try. Come, we go to the cellar, see if I can do what you ask."  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Doctor Johnson," said a nurse joining the crowd in the waiting room. The doctor turned and saw the nurse approaching. She whispered something in his ear and walked back through the door.  
  
"Ladies, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me," he said starting to leave.  
  
"Is it Dylan," asked Natalie tightly holding Pete's hand.  
  
"Her temperature went up another degree. It's not good we need to get it down. I'll let you know when we do."  
  
Dylan drifted in and out of consciousness. She was so hot and wanted a drink. Her mouth felt dry. There were so many people around, where was she? "What's her temperature now," asked Dr. Johnson.  
  
"She it's at 105. That is a half a degree warmer than when I went to get you. . The ibuprofen doesn't seem to be having any affect." replied the nurse.  
  
"Any further vomiting?"  
  
"None, she has been hallucinating. She's been talking about wanting to kill a man named Seamus, that she wouldn't let him hurt her friends."  
  
"Don't die. Don't die," mumbled Dylan her eyes wide and glassy. In her fevered mind she relived the night on the roof of the Hollywood theater over and over again. The heated kiss and watching Anthony plummet from the rooftop impaled on his own sword. Seamus O'Grady's words, "Mind if I cut in," echoed in her mind.  
  
"Shh, Sweetie," said the nurse placing a cool cloth on her forehead and giving the doctor a worried look.  
  
The doctor ran his hand down his face. "Okay I'm going to up the dosage of antibiotics and hope that it helps."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dimitri had been making progress with the virus. It was well made but nothing he hadn't seen before. In fact he had helped design the first designer virus. This one was basically the same thing with a little tweak here and a tweak there a protein re-sequenced to attack and attach to certain DNA strands. It was a little marvel, a wonder of science and creativity. "Such a shame to have to kill it," he muttered as he placed a drop of solution onto the petrie dish and placed it in the special microscope.  
  
The Russian looked over to the small sofa he kept in the far corner of the basement. Anthony was asleep on it. "Poor boy," thought Dimitri. In all the years he had known Anthony he had never seen him upset. He had always kept his emotions in check and bottled up, part of the reason he was such a good and efficient assassin. He had seen that in the young man from the start. He could only wonder who had the man wearing his heart on his sleeve.  
  
The microscope hummed as it magnified the specimen. "Ah ha!" The old man's cry awakened Anthony with a start. "My boy I am sorry to wake you." Anthony rubbed his eyes and joined his friend while writing a note.  
  
"Any progress?"  
  
"A little."  
  
Anthony slammed his fist down on the table causing the vials and beakers to jump. Dimitri was the best, if he couldn't find a cure no one could. He didn't know how much longer Dylan could hold on. "Anton, I have never seen you in such a state- ever. I have known you since you were seventeen tell me what is the problem. Why is this so important?"  
  
Anthony looked at the man. Part of him was ashamed to admit his weakness, his love for the angel. Part was afraid if he did the old man would laugh at him. He didn't know what to say, so he lit a cigarette and hoped it would calm him.  
  
"All right. Keep your secret. I will still help you, but if and when I find the cure I want to know everything. Ev-ry-thing do you understand." Anthony nodded and inhaled the cigarette deeply letting himself relax.  
  
The phone rang and Dimitri answered it. "Hello?...Yes he is here. One moment please," he said to the person on the other end of the line. Anthony took the receiver.  
  
It was his contact in Chicago. "Hey quiet man its me. I called the hospital a few minutes ago. She isn't any better and isn't any worse. They are pretty worried though so whatever you are doing I hope it works out man. I'll call when I know more." Anthony hung up the phone.  
  
"So Anton, you give out my number to strangers," asked the old man angrily. Anthony knew that the old man valued his privacy more than anything, but he needed to know what was going on. "Tell me everything or I won't go any further with the virus."  
  
Anthony, with hard eyes, pulled out his sword and held it to the old man's heart. "So you would rather kill me? Do you think I haven't heard that threat before? You forget I worked for the Soviets. I am an old man now. If you want to kill me fine. I have done my time in this world. Strike me down Anton."  
  
The Thin Man lowered the sword and his eyes. "So who is she Anton? I am old but not a fool. Who has gotten into that cold heart of yours? The owner of the hair you treasure so?"  
  
Anthony arched an eyebrow in question, "How did he know?"  
  
"My eyes aren't what they once were but I am not blind. I watch you with the hair. Your way of indulging in her. Keeping her near you," said Dimitri.  
  
Anthony took out his pen and paper and began writing. "Can you handle a long story?"  
  
"Of course," said the old man.  
  
"But as you work?"  
  
"Fine, deal. You tell me the story and I will take care of the job you brought me."  
  
With that Anthony sat down and began writing the story from the beginning starting with being hired by Vivian Woods, the fight in the alley outside of Corwin's. He described the way his employer had taunted Dylan and shot her out the window, how the angels had fought at the mission making sure to recall the details of the missile that led them to why he was there on Dimitri's doorstep. Eventually he worked his way up to the kiss on the rooftop and concluded with Vivian and her plan.  
  
"So," said the Russian, "you are in love. I see I didn't have to tell you to find a young lady who understands you earlier. You seem to have found one."  
  
Anthony looked at his feet. "Don't be embarrassed . Love is a natural part of life even for men like us." Dimitri paused and looked into the microscope. "Well my boy, it looks like we have a success." For the first time since Dimitri had known him, Anthony smiled. 


	20. Life and Death

Just when you thought things were looking up for everyone..here is chapter 20. I couldn't decide what to call this chapter. I hate that.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Matthews was taken and booked for conspiracy to commit murder. She sat in a cell in the 22nd precinct staring at the dull graffiti cover walls; catatonic. She hadn't moved or spoken since she was brought in. In her mind she played the events over, replaying Anthony throwing the sword which killed her sister, Vivian. Occasionally her left eye would tick usually as she saw in her mind's eye the sword hitting its mark.  
  
"Well here she is Agent Clarke, I suppose you will be coming for the other one later," asked the police officer as he accompanied the FBI agent to Matthews' cell. The large agent turned, the profile of his once broken nose highlighting his face.  
  
"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours to pick up Mr. Daniels and bring him into federal custody. If I could have a minute alone with Ms. Matthews before, I take her away," he said eyeing the police officer.  
  
The officer agreed and left the two alone. There was something about Agent Clarke that made him anxious. He supposed it was the man's large stature. He wouldn't worry about it. At least he was going to take the rogue agents away.  
  
"So, Gloria," said Clarke aka the Vulture, looking at the woman in the cell, "you got yourself caught. Who would have guessed? I told you the idea was crap from the beginning but would you listen? You should have just had me kill Getty but no, you had the bright idea to go through the Chief and get two unknowns and wouldn't you know it, they both turn on you. The one killed your sister even." He chuckled deeply.  
  
At the mention of Vivian, she turned her head slightly and looked at him. "Well it looks like you are coming around. Good. It will make it easier." Clarke went and rang for the guard. The heavy metal door swung open. "I am ready to take Agent Matthews now."  
  
The guard held out a clipboard to the FBI agent. "The officer handling this had to take a call but said if you just sign here and here," he pointed to two fields on the form, "you can take her. It's a bad thing when an FBI agent goes bad."  
  
"Yeah," said Clarke handing the pen back to the man, "not much's worse." The guard unlocked the cell and slid the door open. "Come on Gloria, its time to go." Matthews sat there not moving. "You know you don't want to sit here anymore, come on," said Clarke in a kinder tone than he used moments before. She turned her head and looked at him, then stood taking her blazer with her and exited the cell. "Uh-I don't think so, hands out." He showed her the handcuffs by dangling them off one finger. She stuck out her wrists and he clapped the bracelets shut.  
  
"It strange to see an FBI agent here alone," said the guard leading them to the back exit so they could avoid the press out front, all trying to cover the lead story of Donald Getty and his daughter.  
  
Clarke hadn't expected that observation, "Yeah well, my partner had something else to do." Apparently happy with the large agent's response the guard told him to have a nice day and watched as he put Gloria into the back seat of his sedan.  
  
As they started down the road, Matthews spoke, "I want him. I want to kill that bastard."  
  
"I know and figured as much, babe. I've had my eye on him." Gloria cocked her head to one side and watched him as he spoke to her. "He flew to LAX right after he left the WTC." Clarke pulled over and stopped the car. "Hold your hands out." Gloria did as she was told and he removed the cuffs. "Better," he asked and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"As I was saying," he restarted the car and began driving again, "he is visiting some old codger just north of LA. The name I found was Aleksandrov. Guess he thinks it's a good place to lay low."  
  
"He needs to pay," she said venomously. "I want him dead."  
  
"Not a problem. He has a thing for Getty's daughter if how he acted at the WTC was any indication. He will be back, she's his weakness. You'll get your revenge."  
  
Gloria settled back into the backseat and looked at the lake speeding by her window, "I don't know if I can wait that long."  
  
Just then Clarke's cell-phone rang. He answered it. "Clarke. Really? Good.Fine.Wonderful." Then he hung up. "Well Gloria, you might not have to wait that long."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony looked at the old man and smiled. "Are you sure this will work," he wrote.  
  
Dimitri motioned to the microscope, "Take a look." Anthony hesitated; he didn't know anything about viruses. The old man smiled, he had always been able to read his friend, it was one reason they had gotten along so well,  
  
"Its okay you don't need to know what you are looking at, you will understand as you watch." Dimitri took a clean slide and placed a few drops of the suspension from the dart on it. He slid the slide under the objective lens. With a push of a button the image appeared on his monitor, "These are the virus. This," he said taking an eyedropper and removing some suspension from a test tube, "is the cure. Watch," he said as he dropped the suspension from the test tube onto the slide and hit the button for the microscope.  
  
Anthony watched in amazement as each of the viruses was engulfed by the contents that were taken from the test tube. "See? It seems to work. If I had more time I could make a whole gallon of it." He placed a cork in the test tube. "Come have lunch and then we will take this to your girlfriend."  
  
Cocking an eyebrow he looked at his friend. "Yes, I am coming. I want to meet the girl I did this for. If you care about her she must be special. Or was it me calling her your girlfriend you object to, Anton?"  
  
He was about to answer Dimitri when he heard a noise up stairs. It was faint but it was there. Anthony held out his hand and motioned for the old man to be quiet. "What is wrong?"  
  
Anthony wrote, "I don't know. I think someone is upstairs."  
  
The footsteps came closer and Anthony could make out voices behind the door at the top of the stairs. "Think he is down there," the first one asked.  
  
"Better check. So far no one up here," said the second. From the sounds on the creaky floor above Anthony estimated there were four of them.  
  
He handed Dimitri a note that said, "A back exit?" Dimitri shook his head in the negative. "Stay behind me," he wrote and handed the note to the old man just as the door was broken down.  
  
Anthony withdrew his sword as the four men tramped down the stairs. "Well well, the mute guy and an old man,. Don't want nutin' to do with you old fart, let us get your friend and we'll leave ya in peace," said a large bald man who voice Anthony recognized as the first one who had spoken before. The Thin Man's eyes grew cold. He attacked. He managed to catch the first two off guard running them through with his sword; their lifeless bodies falling to the cement floor. The other two were good. One kicked his hand and the sword went flying. Dimitri caught it as it flew through the air.  
  
"I may be old but I can still fight," the Russian said to his attackers. He started fending off a young man who had his black hair shaved into a crew cut. Anthony kicked and fought with the fourth. Dimitri lunged at his young attacker but the boy was fast. As he pulled back to attack again the boy was quicker. Without an ounce of hesitation he pulled out a gun and shot him. A look of surprise crossed the old man's face and he clasped his free hand across his stomach. He dropped to his knees and groaned the sword still in his other hand.  
  
Anthony turned made a sweeping kick with his leg hitting the boy right below the knees It threw the young attacker off balance. He stumbled and fell impaling himself on the sword still grasped by the Russian. The last turned and ran back up the stairs. Anthony was about to follow when he heard Dimitri call his name, "Anton."  
  
Anthony went back and knelt next to the old man. "My boy," the old man whispered. "Take the cure, love the girl well, it is my gift to the two of you." Anthony swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat. "Promise me something," said Dimitri. The assassin nodded. "Good. You will quit the business." Anthony shook his head. "You said you would promise. You quit the business. No more killing, and be happy with the girl."  
  
The Thin Man scratched out another note, "If she will have me."  
  
"Of course she will have you Anton. I will watch over you. I will watch." With that Dimitri closed his eyes. Anthony swallowed hard. He had never realized how much the old Russian meant to him until it was too late. He would make sure he had a proper funeral, when he got back. Right now he wanted to save someone who might still be able to be saved. He grabbed the test tube and placed it in his pocket where he had carried the dart earlier. He then took the old orange and yellow afghan off the sofa in the corner of the lab, covered his friend with it and said a small prayer over his lifeless body.  
  
Climbing the stairs slowly, Anthony looked at the pictures on the wall. There was one of him and Dimitri right after he had been taken in by the old man. It was small only five by seven; he took it out of the frame and placed it in his pocket and went to the second floor. He went to second room on the right; the once white paint flaking off the door on to the floor of the hallway. Looking inside he noticed the room was the same way he had left it when he struck out on his own many years before.  
  
He opened the closet and inside hung several of his old suits. They smelled of mothballs and cedar but if they fit that is what counted most. He slowly peeled off the tuxedo jacket. He hadn't realized that he had injured his shoulder in the fight in the basement but he saw the blood seeping through the white dress shirt he wore. The wound from the roof top ached as well. He removed the rest of his clothes and opened the door to the left of the closet which led to a small bathroom that had a tiny sink, a toilet and a shower. He turned the water on and watched as the steam fogged the glass door.  
  
The shower helped take away the ache in his shoulder which he patched up with a bandage. He then got dressed in one of the suits from the closet, making sure to take the test tube and picture with him. He went back down the stairs and opened the front door. He took one last look at the house that had been more a home to him than the orphanage and shut the door. He climbed into his black Z4 and headed for the airport never looking back. 


	21. Signs

Ok R for language. We have used the "f-word" so if you have sensitive eyes beware.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The small group of people in the waiting room stood as Dr. Johnson came into the room. He looked tired and worn out. "You should all go home. There isn't any change and there probably won't be for sometime. Her fever has been holding steady at 105 for the last hour or so, I have upped the dosage on the antibiotics. I have friends at the University of Illinois working on it and have our fingers crossed that we can come up with a cure."  
  
"What are her chances," asked Alex as Jason placed his are around her shoulders. She glanced up at him and gave him a tired smile.  
  
"If she it doesn't change, I think she has a good chance of recovery, her white cell count is good and she is fighting it. I'd give her eighty percent at this point. If her status changes for the worse within the next several hours, it could drop to as much as a fifty-fifty chance. My recommendation to you all is go back to your hotels, shower, eat, and rest. Come back later and if she is still holding her own you can see her one at a time."  
  
"We're staying," said Alex defiantly.  
  
"Alex," said Jason. "Maybe the doctor is right. We should get something to eat. You'll feel better."  
  
She turned and looked at her boyfriend. "We just can't leave her here." Jason looked at Pete and said, "Pete and I could stay here and keep watch."  
  
"Good idea," agreed Pete. "You guys go, get some rest and if there is any change we will let you know."  
  
Natalie walked over and put her arms around Alex. Then she looked at Dr. Johnson and asked, "Could we see her now? I think it would be easier on us. Just for a few seconds?"  
  
The doctor looked at the group who stood there with expectant faces. "Okay, but only two of you."  
  
"Alex, Natalie," said Getty, "you two go. A visit from you would mean more to her than a visit from me."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Getty," said Natalie giving the man a hug.  
  
"Call me Donald," he said as the two angels went to see Dylan.  
  
The doctor led the angels down the sterile corridor to the room in which Dylan was. He looked at the two young women at his side. "Okay, now you have to keep it short, five minutes apiece maximum. I have to warn you she doesn't look very good but she is hanging on. Who wants to go first?"  
  
Alex and Natalie looked at each other. "You go ahead Natalie," said Alex.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, go on."  
  
Natalie gently pushed the door open and entered the room. She walked over to the bed and looked at her friend. Dark circles were under her eyes, and her forehead flecked with drops of perspiration that matted her hair. Her left arm was a large bruise from the needles that had taken her blood. "She looks so tiny," though Nat as she sat down and took Dylan's hand in her own.  
  
"Dylan," she paused. "It's me Nat. Boy, are you warm. We are all here for you. Pete and Jason flew in from California, they're in the waiting room," she swallowed hard fighting back the tears. "Your dad is out there too. That should be reason alone to fight this thing. Not only do you find your father but he is one of the richest men in the country. I think that is pretty cool. I really don't know what to say so I guess I'm babbling. Dylan, you have to come back to us. Fight this thing. We are all rooting for you." She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.  
  
The nurse walked over to the bed with a fresh towel for her head. As she leaned over to place it on Dylan's forehead Natalie asked, "Can I do it?" The nurse nodded and handed the cloth to the blonde angel. "Do you think she will make it?"  
  
"I think she will. She seems healthy, well you know what I mean," said the nurse blushing at what she said.  
  
"I know what you mean," replied Natalie. Then the doctor led Alex over to the bed. Alex set her hand on Nat's shoulder. Natalie looked up and gave her a little smile and exited the room with the doctor.  
  
"Hi Dylan," said Alex. "I'm sure whatever I say would be repeat of what Natalie said. But I want to tell you I'm not mad about the boots. In fact as soon as you get better we can go shoe shopping together. Then I can get a new pair and you can get a pair of your own. How does that sound?" She looked up at the nurse. "Can she hear me?"  
  
"Yes, she isn't in a coma and if your voice breaks through her hallucinations that is a good thing."  
  
"She has been hallucinating?"  
  
The nurse hesitated not sure if she should say if the doctor hadn't, "Yes, but its nothing to worry about, just a side-effect of the fever. I just wish she wouldn't have such violent ones, she ripped her i.v out twice. It seems for now they are over." She saw how worried Alex looked. "Doctor Johnson is the best; he won't let anything happen to her if he can help it." She then looked at her watch, "I'm sorry your five minutes are up. I'll see if I can arrange more time for you and your friend for later."  
  
Alex blankly nodded; she could only imagine what was happening to Dylan in her mind. She left the room joining Natalie who waited for her in the hallway. After the door closed again the two girls hugged each other and walked back to the waiting room in silence."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Gloria sat in the arm chair in the hotel room that Clarke had rented. Her hair was damp from her shower and she was drinking a cup of tea. Her eyes focused on the door as it opened revealing Agent Clarke and Daniels. She hadn't known that he was actually going to get Daniels out of jail; she thought it was part of the script for the jail guard. "What the hell is he doing here!" she yelled jumping out of the chair, the blanket that covered her lap falling to the floor.  
  
"Nice to see you again too Matthews," said Daniels in an arrogant tone.  
  
"You bastard, you screwed the operation up," she said approaching him with her fist clinched.  
  
"Me? I think it was those angels."  
  
"That's it blame everyone for your being high on- what is it you take? Ecstasy? Coke? And then don't admit when you fuck up!" she screamed at the former agent in front of her.  
  
Clarke stepped between them and put his hands on Gloria's shoulders to hold her back. "Now, now kiddies let's play nice. Gloria sit down," he waved his hand towards the chair she had previously occupied. "Mike, I hate to take sides but Glory is right, you made mistakes and fucked up."  
  
"Hey," Daniels said beginning to protest but stopped when he saw the look cross Clarke's face.  
  
"Good boy. Now you are obedient but we can't have you mess up again. What are we going to do with you," he asked sounding like a parent trying to come up with a punishment.  
  
Not realizing the seriousness of the situation he was in Daniels replied, "Send me to my room without dinner, and take away TV for a week?"  
  
Clarke's demeanor changed in a second, "Think you are really cute huh? Don't you? Well I think had it been a small offense your ideas would be fine but I think this time that punishment is death." He then pulled the same silence .38 out of his shoulder holster that Daniels had used to kill Mitchum. "The cops gave me the evidence for Mitchum's shooting," he said and without a moment of thought pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the air and went into Daniels chest. It was so quick he never even realized the large man with the vulture like nose shot him. Daniels dropped to the floor and closed his eyes for the last time.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony stepped out of the airplane and walked down the jetway to the terminal. He didn't bother with the baggage claim as he had none with him and went out to the taxi queue. The driver eyed the thin man with bloodshot eyes who handed him a slip of paper with an address of a hospital. "Yeah sure buddy. So who is it?" asked the cabby nosily. Anthony lifted an eyebrow in question. "Your mom? Dad? Sister? Brother?" He didn't answer he just sat back and watched the scenery go by.  
  
"Quiet one ain't cha.," said the driver shrugging at being ignored. In the back seat Anthony pulled out the lock of hair he had stolen from Dylan in the hotel room. Its appearance shocked him. It was no longer the vibrant red-gold that it had been. He remembered his mother and her superstitions. She had seen omens and signs in everything, he wondered what she would have said about the lock of hair he held in his hand. He put it away and took out the picture. "Dimitri," he thought silently. In the photo the older man was smiling and he had worn his typical scowl they were dressed in their white fencing protective gear. The photo had been taken by Dimitri's old maid, Irena. The Russian would never met Dylan but at least she could meet him, he thought as he placed the picture back  
  
The traffic came to a stand still. "Great, just great," complained the cab driver slapping his hand on the steering wheel and honking. "Looks like we'll be here awhile."  
  
Anthony took out his pad and wrote, "Another way around?"  
  
The cabby looked at him warily and took the note, "Ya don't talk at all huh? No ain't no other way around. We just gotta sit tight. Don't worry none, you won't be charged for it. New ordinance by the city against us cabbie," he said sarcastically.  
  
"How far to the hospital," asked Anthony in his usual manner.  
  
"Twenty blocks or so. By the time you get half way there this mess will start moving. I can guarantee you that."  
  
He calculated the odds in his head about whether the cab driver was right. Deciding he was he sat back and tried to relax. Soon the traffic was creeping ahead again. As the cab approached the traffic cop the driver rolled down his window. "Hey officer." The cop didn't hear him. "Hey officer," the driver yelled louder. He had the policeman's attention and he approached the cab.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What's the delay?"  
  
The cop looked around, "What the hell, you'll hear about it soon enough, we just found the body of an FBI agent propped against the exit sign for 28a on the Eisenhower. We are rerouting all the traffic off from the exits before and after that one."  
  
A thought dawned on Anthony. He jumped out of the taxi handing a wad of bills to the driver. He hurried but didn't run. He had an idea what he would find out when he arrived fifteen blocks later at exit 28a. As he approached the exit there was a crowd of people standing around looking at the body hanging from the sign. A group of firemen were trying to take it down. Anthony over heard a reporter talking to a police officer, ".and no one saw who put it there?"  
  
"No one. It wasn't there during rush hour so who knows when it happened," said the officer to the reporter.  
  
Anthony watched as they lowered the body. It was Daniels just as he suspected. He sighed, nothing could ever be easy they were all still in danger. 


	22. Arrival

A/N Dylan's life is hanging in the balance here. I haven't decided if shelives or dies yet. Mean? Maybe. Still I hope you like it anyway. You also get an explanation of how Anthony survived the fall in FT (at  
  
least my version of it)  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The angels and Getty had taken Dr. Johnson's advice and gone back to their hotels to rest, clean up and eat. Pete and Jason volunteered to stay behind in case there was any change in Dylan's condition. It had been now a little over 24hours without improvement.  
  
"Shoot, shoot," called Pete to the television in the waiting room. He was lying on the hard hospital couch with his leg tossed over the arm.  
  
"I can't believe he missed that," said Jason waving his hand at the TV as he handed Pete a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee. They were watching a Bulls-Lakers game. A nurse came out and approached them. "Do you think we were too loud?" Jason asked Pete.  
  
"Mr. Gibbons, Mr. Kominsky?" asked the nurse. The two men nodded at the question. "You might want to call your girlfriends and Mr. Getty;" she said solemnly, "Ms. Sanders isn't doing well at all."  
  
"What do you mean," asked Jason looking and his friend and wondering how he was going to break the news to Alex.  
  
"I am so sorry. The doctors have done everything they could. She has gotten much worse; we doubt she will make it through the night. She slipped into a coma a few minutes ago then began." she paused looking at the two men. "Should I go on?"  
  
"Please," said Pete sitting up right so he could pay closer attention.  
  
"She began to have seizures. We gave her Phenobarbital to help with that and they have stopped but it doesn't look good." Another doctor approached her and she excused herself and went with him,  
  
"How are we going to tell Nat and Alex," asked Jason.  
  
"How are you going to tell us what?" inquired the angels who entered the waiting room.  
  
Jason and Pete looked at each other helplessly. "What's wrong?" demanded Alex.  
  
"Pete?" asked Natalie.  
  
Jason was the one who answered, "They said Dylan has gotten worse."  
  
"They don't think she will make it," said Pete putting his arms around Natalie.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
He wasn't sure which building she was in, the hospital complex was huge. Earlier he could have been able to tell by the crowds of reporters that stood outside, but they had since dissipated and gone home. He paused; leaning against the post of a sodium lit street lamp and started to reach for a cigarette.  
  
"Hey Thin Man," a voice said coming from behind him. Anthony turned and saw his contact, Leon. "I tried calling the number in California and the hotel number for you here but no one answers. Just glad you made it back, man. Your friend isn't." he stopped upon seeing Anthony's arched eyebrow. "She's not good. Some of the assholes in the morgue take bets on the patients in ICU; she is up at the top of their list for being on a gurney downstairs wearing a toe tag."  
  
Anthony handed his associate a piece of paper, "Take me to her."  
  
"Let's go," said Leon leading him through the dark paths of the hospital grounds. Anthony had met him after the incident on the roof top. Leon was on his final year of being an intern and was in LA visiting his cousin. The two of them happened to walk by the alley the evening of the premire of ME:2. As they were passing as the "E" fell from the roof into the darkened alley onto the two men impaled on the sword. Leon insisted they check it out, as they approached they heard moaning; that was when the young man switched into doctor mode.  
  
Leon bent down in the pile of twisted metal on top of bodies. He checked the pulses of the two men who lay under the letter and called his cousin, "Devon, get over here I need help."  
  
"Help, what you need help for?" called Devon from the edge of the shadows. "Ain't no way those guys survived Doctor Boy. We should just go on our way. No point in getting involved."  
  
"One is alive now get in here and help me."  
  
Devon had never heard his cousin use that tone before and came into the alley like he was commanded to do. "We have to get the letter off them. Push it to the left," said Leon.  
  
"It will cut the man's head off," said Devon looking down at the surprised rictus on the face of Seamus O'Grady.  
  
"He's dead and won't feel it but the other guy on the bottom is still alive," replied his doctor cousin. "We have to get him out." Together they managed to move the E without removing Seamus' head. Anthony moaned under the weight of Seamus. The two young African American men lifted the dead Irishman slowly off the sword. "Have to go slow; we don't want to move it in the bottom guy at all. We can't take a chance that it will cause more damage. You grab the big guy's hips. I'll take his shoulders. Now on three we lift. Straight up. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah, got it."  
  
"Okay now," said Leon, hearing police sirens approaching. "One.two.three." Grunting under the weight of the Seamus' large frame the two men lifted his off the sword and laid him next to the Thin Man's. "Now we have to roll this guy over," said Leon. "We roll him and then I'm going to pull the sword out."  
  
Devon looked at his cousin. Moving the big one was enough for him. "Don't think so."  
  
"Listen if we don't this man will die. All you have to do is hold him still. I'll do the messy part."  
  
"What if it's in his heart, man? Leon I don't know."  
  
"It's not, it went in just above and looks like it's angled to the right near the lung. That is why we need to be careful. Just do what I say." Devon helped to roll the Thin Man on his right side and held him steady while his cousin grasped the grip of the sword in both hands and pulled. A low moan escaped the Thin Man's throat.  
  
"What are we gonna do with him?" asked Devon. The sounds of the ambulance drew nearer.  
  
"Wait for the ambulance to get here and then I'll go to the hospital with them. My specialty is cardiology." Leon wanted to see this man through until he was better.  
  
Now as Anthony followed Leon though the darkened maze of paths he realized he owed Leon not only for his own life but for helping save Dylan's as well. He only wondered how he could repay the man who was helping him. They rounded a corner with a small fountain and entered the building at the end of the walkway. "Back entrance," said Leon in explanation. "She is in ICU room 404. To get there you will have to go through the main waiting room and her friends never leave." Anthony figured that much, he knew he wouldn't be able to walk right in.  
  
While on the elevator Anthony took the test tube out of his pocket and handed it to Leon. "So this is it?" he asked. Anthony nodded. "They will want to run tests on it. Make sure it won't poison her." Anthony just looked at him. "Listen man we just can't inject people with whatever an assassin brings in off the street. I know you want to help her but no one else knows you do and after about hearing that little sword throwing trick you did back in the theater.well I think they will test it first." The elevator doors slid open.  
  
Natalie and Alex in shock stood in the arms of their boyfriends. They had been concerned about Dylan but they never thought she would get worse. "Charlie," cried Natalie. "We should tell Charlie. He would want to tell her goodbye."  
  
Bosley stepped forward, "Don't you worry about that. I'll get in touch with Charlie." He took his cell-phone and went over to the elevator; he would go to the lobby to make the call as not to disturb any equipment with the phone. He was about to press the button when the elevator doors slid open revealing The Thin Man and Leon.  
  
"The Thin Man," said Alex. Both she and Natalie got into attack position. Anthony put his hand out behind him to signal for Leon to stay where he was. He stepped out of the elevator. Anthony sighed at how predictable they were. They really needed to expand their techniques.  
  
"Why is he here?" hissed Natalie to Alex.  
  
"I don't know," whispered Alex back.  
  
Anthony reached into his pocket to take out a piece of paper. Alex attacked, her hands flying at him. He defended her blows easily with one hand as he removed the small pad with the other. He had been expecting as much so in the cab from the airport he had written a note with a brief succinct explanation. When she stopped swinging he held the pad out to her. She took it and read it out loud, "I have a cure for her."  
  
The crowd looked at him not sure whether he was to be believed or not. He stood there and waited to know if they wanted it or not. "Let me get this straight," said Natalie lowering her fist and eyeing Anthony, "you have a cure for Dylan? The biochemists at the university have been working on this for the last 24 hours with no success."  
  
"And you just waltz in with a cure?" said Alex finishing her thought.  
  
At that Leon stepped out of the elevator. "Hey the man said he had a cure, what is the problem. Isn't that what you want?"  
  
The angels looked at the young man wearing a white medical coat. "The man is a hired killer. We just can't trust him.Doctor?"  
  
"Doctor Leon Wilson at your service," said Leon with a sweeping bow. "I know what he is but he cared enough about your friend to get a cure made."  
  
Anthony was surprised. He had never had anyone speak for him before, well except Dimitri but that was different. It was almost as though Leon was a friend. That wasn't possible was it? He didn't have any friends. He was a loner, that was how he liked it or did he?  
  
Leon stepped out of the elevator and held out the vial. "This is it. We just need to give it to her attending physician and she should be on her way to recovery."  
  
One of the many nurses who worked ICU approached the group. "Excuse me." They turned to look at her. "Your friend, she went into cardiac arrest. Dr. Johnson is working on resuscitating her."  
  
Anthony grabbed the test tube from Leon and headed towards the restricted door. "Hey man, you can't go in there," yelled Leon. When he realized the Thin Man wasn't stopping he shrugged and followed him. The angels would have right behind if it hadn't been for the breaking news bulletin announcing the body found on the expressway exit was none other than FBI agent Michael Daniels. 


	23. Awkward Moments

I think this chapter is a little on the fluffy side but if you can bare with me for this one and the next the excitement will pick up I hope.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Clarke answered the telephone whose ringing tore him away from Gloria's naked form which was spread across the bed. "Clarke here."  
  
Gloria ran her manicured hand over his muscular chest and gave him a satisfied smile as she pulled the sheet up over herself, "Don't be too long."  
  
"What the hell do you mean?" screamed Clarke into the receiver and jumped out of bed. Gloria cringed away from his fist that he hit the pillow with. "He got away? He got away and you are just telling me this now? You were supposed to kill the son of a bitch!" He paused and listened to the man on the other hand. "I don't care if he killed your crew or the entire population of Los Angeles YOUR job was to kill that mute bastard and you let him get away."  
  
"He got away?" questioned Gloria kneeling with the sheet wrapped around her and grabbed for the phone. She didn't want to hear this second hand.  
  
Clarke brushed her off and continued, "So where is he now?" The man, the one who got away, explained to the FBI agent with the crooked nose that he had tracked Anthony to LAX and that he had caught a flight back to Chicago.  
  
"So he is here now is he? Thanks," he said a bit calmer laying the receiver back on the phone. Turning to Gloria he said, "They didn't kill the Thin Man, he is back here in Chicago."  
  
Gloria got out of bed and began to get dressed. "Where do you think you are going?" he asked.  
  
"Where do you think? The same place that the Thin Man is the hospital to see that slutty little angel, that is where." She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater then combed her hair all the while Clarke watched her.  
  
"I don't know that he would be there. He has to know the police are looking for him. Everyone saw him on stage and there were at least 400 witnesses that he killed Vivian. I don't think he will show up there. Too risky," said Clarke popping open a beer.  
  
"You have never been in love have you Clarke?" The agent didn't say anything. "Trust me he'll be there and so will I," she said grabbing her purse. "If you want to come good if not fine by me but I am seeing this through to the end and if I am lucky I'll get the angel's daddy too." Clarke grinned as he watched her leave. He always liked women who knew what they wanted.  
  
"Hang on. Im comin' too. I want to watch," said Clarke getting out of bed.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The news segment on the TV over the body of Agent Daniels caught the eyes of the angels. They stopped gapping at the television. "My god who could have done that?" asked Natalie. "Vivian is dead; Matthews and the body guard are in jail." She looked at Alex, "Do you think it could have been the Chief?"  
  
"I don't see what he would have to gain. We better catch up with the Thin Man." Alex's eyes widened. "You don't think that he killed Daniels do you?" Natalie didn't think so but they couldn't rule him out. They then went down the hall following Anthony, Leon, and Bosley.  
  
Anthony scanned each side of the hallway for the room in which Dylan was. He soon came to room 404. "Stop man," called Leon as Anthony reached for the door handle. He paused as Leon caught up. "You just can't barge in there. I am a doctor first you have to think about her health. Johnson is good let him work."  
  
Anthony peered through the rectangular window in the door. He couldn't see Dylan through the doctor and nurses crowded around the bed but he could hear Dr. Johnson barking orders for more current to shock her heart into beating again. Soon the noise died down and everyone could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor. Johnson came out and looked at the people in the hallway.  
  
"I suppose you already know we had an emergency. Dylan has taken a turn for the worse. I honestly don't think she will make it to morning. I am sorry. Dr. Wilson," he said noticing the other physician in the corridor, "how can I help you?"  
  
"You can help me by giving her this." He held out the test tube.  
  
"What is this?" He asked taking the vial from Leon's hand.  
  
Leon looked at Anthony then back to Dr. Johnson, "A cure."  
  
"There is no cure. I talked to the men and women working on this at the University they said that it couldn't be stopped." He looked tired and worn out.  
  
"Listen Rick, at least test it see if it's what the man says. If it is then good and well, you give it to her and she lives. Do you really want to see her die if the cure is in your hand?" asked Leon.  
  
Five expectant faces and the Thin Man looked at Dr. Johnson. "Fine I'll test it. See if it's what this man claims it is. It will take a couple hours, the lab is backed up."  
  
"You yourself said she might not make it a couple more hours," said Getty angrily. "Whatever amount of money it takes I'll pay it so long as it gets tested tonight."  
  
"Mr. Getty I know you are worried about your daughter but there are other patients here you need treatment. Some as bad if not worse off than she is. I don't mean to sound cruel or uncaring, but your money doesn't mean anything to their families. I'll put in word to rush it that is all I can do. Now everyone back out into the waiting room." He shooed them with his hands.  
  
They walked slowly out to the waiting room. Alex and Natalie sat down with their boyfriends and explained what went on in the hallway outside Dylan's room. Bosley took out a deck of cards, "Anyone what to play?"  
  
"I'll take you up on that," said Getty and Bosley began to deal.  
  
Anthony sat away from the others. "Hey quiet man, I know it's not ideal but you gave them something they didn't have before- a solution." said Leon to him. He saw Anthony watching the others. "Join them. You all are on the same side for once; you want Dylan to get better as much as they do. Let them support you and you support them." All he received in return for his advice was the usual cold stare. "Listen if you need anything you know how to contact me. I'm going to check on a few patients of mine in CICU then go home and get some rest." With that he left the Thin Man alone.  
  
Across the room Alex arm wrestled Pete and Natalie leaned back in the crook of Pete's arm watching David Letterman. "Come on Alex best two out of three," said Jason as she beat him.  
  
"Okay," she said and made sure her elbow was steady on the table. It didn't take long before she dominated him again.  
  
"Three out of five?" asked Jason. Alex just rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"You know," said Pete out of the blue, "I think he is more worried about Dylan than any of us."  
  
Natalie sat up and looked at her boyfriend then at the two men playing cards, "Who Getty?"  
  
"No, the guy you call 'Creepy Thin Man'," he replied. When he saw her skeptical look he continued. "Think about it the man went out and found a cure.yeah we don't know if it works but you don't think he would have done that if he didn't care about her do you? I would probably do it for a girl I wasn't interested in but he doesn't strike me as the type. Does he you?"  
  
Nat thought about what Pete was saying. "And he's sitting there all alone," she said her eyes getting teary. "Maybe we should try to talk to him." She then corrected herself. "We should try to talk to him as much as anyone can talk to him. By the way, his real name is Anthony; I don't think he'd like it if we called him 'Creepy Thin Man'".  
  
He tried not to be obvious about watching them. He just had so little association with regular people he couldn't help but observe their behavior. Then he noticed the blonde angel Natalie and her boyfriend looking at him, he was fairly sure they were talking about him as well. "Let them," he thought it wasn't as though people didn't talk about him before. He reached into his pocket for the strand of Dylan's hair. It looked colorful again, maybe it was just the poor lighting in the cab. He closed his eyes and ran it over his cheeks inhaling the fruity scent of her shampoo. It tickled his lips and nose. Suddenly a voice woke him from his revelry. "Hi, can we join you?"  
  
Anthony opened his eyes and looked up there stood the blonde angel and her boyfriend. The angel stuck out her hand. "I don't think we have ever properly met, I'm Natalie and this is Pete." Anthony just stared at her hand not taking in. Natalie awkwardly put it down.  
  
"Sooo.you're Anthony," said Pete. The sound of his name startled him. It wasn't often that people used it; not that many people knew it. In reply he nodded slowly. "Did you catch the Bulls-Lakers game that was on earlier?" Pete realized how silly that sounded; of course the man didn't he was finding a cure for Dylan. "I guess not," said Pete not bothering to wait for an answer.  
  
Anthony was having trouble holding back and amused smile. He had never seen two people so ill-at-ease before. They looked like Hansel and Gretel holding hands and confronting the witch. Part of him was tempted to be nice and to try to relieve the tension but he quickly shut that part up. This was too interesting, the uncomfortable looks they gave each other, they way they rocked from foot to foot.  
  
"I guess you're worried about Dylan," said Natalie. At that he nodded, he was there right? It obviously wasn't too much of a secret that he cared for her. "Is that stuff you brought really a cure?" asked the blonde. Anthony looked around before answering and noticed that all the eyes in the room were on him. He brought out his notepad and wrote, "Yes it's a cure."  
  
Natalie continued, "I'm sorry about all the questions but did you make it? Where did you get it from?"  
  
"A friend," he wrote and tapped the paper to indicated that it was the answer to both. Then Alex came over. "Why should we believe you?" she demanded.  
  
"Why shouldn't you," he replied in writing.  
  
Alex looked at his answer and narrowed her eyes, "Don't get me started on all the reasons." Anthony held her stare and she continued, "How about working of Knox just as a general example."  
  
He jotted down, "I saved you, Max and Dylan." He shook his head. He didn't know why he was even responding. To them he would always be 'the Creepy Thin Man'. He just wondered if that is how Dylan saw him as well.  
  
Then Alex's boyfriend looked at the note, "Did he really save you?" Reluctantly Alex admitted that he did do what he had written. "But," she added "I could have avoided that guy easily". Anthony gave her a look that said, "Sure you could have."  
  
"Then I think I owe you a big thanks," said Jason offering his hand much like Natalie did earlier. This time Anthony accepted. "I'm Jason Gibson. You know, Maximum Extreme AND Maximum Extreme 2," he said making the hand motions. Anthony looked at him with his perfected cold stare. "Okay then," said Jason suddenly uncomfortable, "anyone want coffee? I'll make the run." Everyone except Anthony did and Alex volunteered to go with Jason to help carry them back.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
"So do you have a plan," asked Clarke as they climbed into the tiny rental car, "or do you just plan on going into the hospital guns blazing?" He fastened the seat belt around his broad chest.  
  
"Don't worry about it. I know what I am doing," said Vivian putting the car in reverse and backing out of the parking place. Clarke snorted. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I was just wondering if Vivian thought the same thing," he remarked just to rile her up. He loved watching the way her eyes blazed when she was angry.  
  
"Vivian's plan was foolproof. It would have gone off without a hitch had that little bitch not jumped out of the plane. So, currently I don't have a plan but you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll have one by the time we get there." 


	24. The Cure

A/N I am no longer taking Anonymous reviews BUT your reviews are important to me so please sign in. Thank you.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Anthony looked around the waiting room at the six sleeping people. He couldn't understand how they could sleep on the hard, lumpy furniture that was in the waiting room. He needed a cigarette badly. He hadn't had one in hours and it was starting to get to him. Before he took the elevator to the lobby he went to the small window behind which a nurse sat. He handed her a note, "Dylan Sanders? Is there any change?"  
  
The nurse smiled at him. "None that I know of, sir."  
  
He took the elevator to the lobby and went into the smoking area. There were several men standing around in the foliage filled area talking about what they should name their babies. Anthony pulled out the sleek silver cigarette case he carried and removed a smoke. He lit it and inhaled deeply. "Your wife in labor too?" one of the young fathers asked him. He shook his head "no." "Mine is about to have twins. She has been in labor six hours now. SIX."  
  
"That is nothing," said another man, "last baby we had my wife had eighteen hours of labor." Anthony was having a hard time believing that these men would stand around smoking bragging about whose wife was in more pain. Just then two people entering the hospital and approaching admissions caught his eye, Gloria Matthews. The man who was with her he couldn't place although there was something familiar about him. He ground the cigarette out in the ashcan and moved to a discrete distance where they could be heard and he could not be seen.  
  
"Excuse me," said Gloria sweetly to the woman at the admissions desk. "A friend of mine was brought in here a few evenings ago, Dylan Sanders. I was wondering if you could tell me how she is doing and if I could see her?"  
  
"I am sorry ma'am I can only release information on her status to family. All I can tell you is she is in ICU," said the old woman with blue hair, her bifocals perched on the tip of her nose, seated behind the desk.  
  
"Of course," said Gloria trying to think of another way to get upstairs.  
  
"I'm her brother," said Clarke.  
  
"I highly doubt that," said the admissions clerk in a no nonsense way. "I have been informed that Ms. Sanders has no family and not to disclose ANY information about her. Now," she continued with a kinder tone, "I know that you are concerned about your friend but due to her condition no information is being released on her status."  
  
"Come Glory, let's get breakfast and plan better," Clarke whispered in her ear. "See you can't do this without a good plan and I have an idea. We should discuss it over an egg McMuffin." Clarke although his tone was sweet he grabbed her arm roughly and led her towards the door. As they turned Anthony realized who the large man with her was. He would know that nose anywhere; he had fought the man at the Chief's. He could only wonder what "the vulture" had to do with Gloria Matthews.  
  
He headed back up to the ICU unit. In the elevator he wrote furiously trying to anticipate the questions the angels would ask and have the answers written to them. The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor and exited only to see Dr. Johnson speaking with the angels. He hesitated in approaching them, but Natalie saw him and waved him over.  
  
"Now you are all here," said Dr. Johnson as Anthony approached. The doctor opened the folder that was tucked under his arm. "I am happy to tell you that the preliminary tests on what was given to me last night seem to show that will destroy the virus. I guess I should thank you," he said looking at Anthony.  
  
"When will it be given to her?" asked Alex.  
  
"I was just about to do it. I know I said preliminary but I don't think we should wait. Surprisingly after that the cardiac arrest last night she has held her ground I would say her chances once the vaccine is in her system are excellent, but if we wait she may have more complications. As soon she is doing better we will run tests to make sure none of her systems were permanently affected by the virus. "Now," he said closing the folder, "I can let one of you go with me. Who will it be?"  
  
To the Thin Man's surprise Alex turned around and said, "Anthony, do you want to go?" He looked at her unbelieving then nodded. "I guess that is settled," said Alex, "Anthony is going."  
  
He followed the doctor down the hall. "I don't know who made the vaccine but according to my friend at the university the person was a genius. The solution was obvious but they didn't see it, and those guys are the best." The doctor opened the door to the room and ushered Anthony inside. He hadn't seen Dylan since the theater and was surprised at her condition now. She had deteriorated to a shadow of her former self within the last thirty hours. He could hear her steady breathing and reached out and touched her matted hair. Even in its disheveled state it was tempting to pull but he only stroked it.  
  
"She can hear you. Maybe if you talk to her she will respond. She isn't as bad off as last night but far from healthy, yet," said the doctor not realizing that he didn't speak. "Great," he said as the hypodermic needle dropped to the floor. "I'll be back in a minute. I need to get another needle." Dr. Johnson left the room shutting the door behind him.  
  
Anthony sat on the chair next to Dylan's bed moving it nearer so he could be closer to her. He picked up her hand and lightly pressed his lips to it. Her skin was warm and dry. "Dylan," he whispered his voice tinged with a slight accent. He wanted to say more, but wasn't quite sure what. He tried to recall the comforting words of the nuns but none of them seemed appropriate or to what he wanted to express. She moaned softly. "Dylan, it will be okay."  
  
Someone was talking to her. Someone was telling her it would be okay. "It's not okay. He is dead. Seamus stabbed him. He fell off the roof," said Dylan's feverish mind.  
  
The doctor came in with his new needle. "Back. Well cross your fingers," he said to Anthony and then drew some of the vaccine out of the bottle. He rolled up the sleeve on her already battered arm and injected it into the muscle. "Now we have to wait and see. If you want to stay with her you can. I have a few other patients to check on."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
They sat in the McDonald's around the corner from the hospital and ate in silence. Finally Gloria spoke, "So what do you suggest?"  
  
"I show my badge, that little laminated card helps me anywhere I want to be, sort of like a Visa. You my dear would look cute as a nurse. I got a look at a few while you were charming your way past reception, "he said sarcastically. "Just need a white skirt, comfy white shoes, and a pink scrub top  
  
"Nice I can find the skirt, or pants and shoes just about anywhere but where am I going to get a scrub top?" she asked him.  
  
"My dear that isn't difficult, the parking garage," he said simply  
  
Matthews looked confused for a moment, "The parking garage? The parking garage." With that she chewed her last bite of muffin and swallowed the bitter black coffee and they left.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Dylan's eyelids fluttered the opened. She looked at the ceiling not knowing where she was. Her throat ached and her muscles were sore. She felt slimy and in need of a bath, and someone was holding her hand. She turned her head and saw an elegant profile with a sharp nose and a mass of black hair asleep, his head resting on her bed. "Anthony," she thought. She reached out and softly touched his hair.  
  
He sat up with a start. "I guess you're a light sleeper," she said to him with a smile. Anthony had the same surprised look on his face as he did after she had played with the lock of his hair on the rooftop. He started to say something when the door to the room opened. A young blonde nurse came in and checked on Dylan. "Hi," she said smiling flirtatiously at Anthony. "I'm here to take her temperature."  
  
Dylan glared at the nurse for speaking as if she wasn't there and for smiling like that at Anthony. Then she reprimanded herself silently for thinking that way, "What are you doing Dylan, you have no claim on him." The nurse leaned over the bed making sure her rear stuck out so Anthony could get a good look as she placed the thermometer in Dylan's ear. "It looks good. She is down to 101." She marked it in Dylan's chart. "That is the lowest she has been since she arrived. I'd say that vaccine they found is working."  
  
"Thanks for telling me," said Dylan. The nurse just looked at her and wiggled out of the room. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out," she mumbled to the nurse as she watched her leave. "I hate it when people act like I am not in the room. What happened to me?"  
  
He so wanted to speak, to tell her everything she wanted to know, he was just very shy about it. When he was a child he stuttered badly and the other children of the circus families made fun of him. His parents had managed to save enough for a few speech therapy sessions. Although they couldn't afford to send him more than three times or so his mother had made sure he practiced the exercises that he had been given. Even after they had died he continued practicing in private and though the stutter was gone, he remained too timid to speak out loud. Soon he had realized the power that not speaking gave him. Now he wished that the fear would leave him. He didn't think she would laugh but for now he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. He pulled out his pad and wrote, "You were infected by the virus meant for Getty."  
  
"I thought it was deadly. Why aren't I dead?"  
  
Once again they were interrupted, this time by Dr. Johnson and Dylan's friends. Anthony realized with a start that he had been so worried about the angel he had forgotten about Matthews and "the Vulture".  
  
"Dylan!" squealed Natalie and Alex. They each threw their arms around her. "You are all right," said Natalie. Anthony got up and moved carefully to the back of the crowd and left the room.  
  
"I won't be much longer if you two don't stop suffocating me," said Dylan playfully.  
  
Their attention was called by someone clearing their throat, "Ladies, if I can get in to see my patient I would very much appreciate it." He took out his stethoscope and listened to her heart and lungs. He checked her reflexes, eyes, ears, nose and throat. "It's unbelievable. An hour ago you were at death's door but now, you look."  
  
"She looks fabulous," said Alex happily.  
  
"As soon as I take some blood I think we can move you into a regular room. If the blood work comes back negative then you are free to leave."  
  
"That's great," said Dylan beaming. Then she looked at her bruised arms, "Do you think you can find a decent vein? I look like a drug addict."  
  
"The bruising will go away with time," said Dr. Johnson as he prepared the needle. "Just try to relax. If you tense up the blood won't flow." Dylan closed her eyes tightly as the needle penetrated her skin. Slowly she opened them looking around for Anthony but he wasn't there.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The two rogue FBI agents pulled back into the parking garage in the rental car. Clarke gave Gloria a wicked smile, reached into the backseat and handed her the plastic Wal-Mart bag containing one deflated beach ball and a shirt. "Blow it baby," he said raising and lowering his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.  
  
Gloria hit him on the arm and blew up the red and yellow striped ball. She then removed her blouse and pulled the shirt which had the yellow diamond shape screen printed to the front which read, "Baby on Board", like the car signs. Stuffing the beach ball under the top she climbed out of the car. "So how do I look?"  
  
"Like a cow," Clarke said cruelly.  
  
Matthews scowled at him and said, "Some father you'd be."  
  
"Oh looky here comes one of the pink brigade. Start moaning." Gloria gave it all she had. She held her stomach and breathed as though she was doing Lamaze. It wasn't long before the nurse; the same one who took Dylan's temperature earlier came over to assist them.  
  
"Do you need help?" asked the nurse trying to see them clearly in the dim parking garage lights.  
  
"My wife.she is in labor," said Clarke sounding all the nervous father. "I don't know what to do. Where to go." The nurse came closer to assist. Once she was in range Clarke whacked her in the back of the head with the butt of his service revolver. "She will be out for awhile. Take the top, change and let's go." 


	25. Slow Recovery

Dylan was quickly settled in the new hospital room and Bosley was crawling on the floor under the swinging bed table looking for a phone jack. "They told me one was here somewhere. That's what they said, 'Bosley you can find one near the bed.' But do I know where? No. I'm down here with God knows what kind of rabid dust bunnies."  
  
"Bosley," called Dylan smiling at her friend, but he kept rambling on about dust bunnies and diseases left on the floor. "Bosley!" she called a bit louder this time getting his attention. Kneeling still on the floor he turned and looked at a now semi-health Dylan who was beaming a big smile at him. "Up here Bos," she said pointing to the outlet in the electrical strip to the right of the bed.  
  
"Well that was my next place to look. I didn't think they'd want people all crawln' around on the floor pickin' up other peoples sicknesses." The angels all giggled. Bosley plugged in the speaker phone and as soon as he did it rang. He hit the button and out came the well loved voice of their employer. "Good Afternoon Angels"  
  
"Good Afternoon Charlie," the trio chimed in perfect unison.  
  
"Before we discuss anything else I want to apologize to Dylan. I should have never sent you in to that situation, but despite all that happened you handled it perfectly. I am so glad you are better. I can't tell you how worried I was."  
  
"Thanks Charlie," said Dylan. "You don't have to apologize and actually other than the almost dying it was kind of fun." Alex and Natalie who sat on either side of Dylan's bed placed their arms around her.  
  
"Well that's good to know because it isn't over yet. Agent Daniels is dead and Agent Matthews is missing."  
  
"That's right," said Alex leaning around Dylan to speak to Nat. "We became so involved with Dylan we forgot about the news report."  
  
Natalie said, "Right, Charlie we heard on the news that Daniels was shot a point blank range and his body was found hanging off an exit sign for the Expressway."  
  
"That's correct Natalie. The police have compared the ballistics to that of the gun that killed Agent Mitchum, they are a match," said Charlie.  
  
Alex looked confused, "But the police had the gun when they arrested Daniels. Who would have taken it from the evidence locker and used it on him."  
  
"Right and more importantly how did Gloria escape?" asked Dylan.  
  
"Matthews and Daniels didn't escape. They were released into FBI custody yesterday morning. Currently the prime suspect is this man," said Charlie as Bosley passed around copies of a fax of a picture.  
  
Dylan's eyes widened as she saw the man in the photo. Even with out the extra make up that he had on the night of the competition there was no mistaking him for anyone but "the vulture". "I know this man," Dylan said coolly.  
  
"Who is he?" asked Alex.  
  
"I don't know his real name but he was the FBI agent fighting at the Chief's competition. They called him 'The Vulture' because of his nose. Mitchum had made a big deal out of how I should take a fall if it came down to me or him being selected. I never had to. Anthony fought him first and won."  
  
"Well," said Natalie holding the picture at various angles, "I suppose his nose does look a little like the beak of a lapped faced vulture but not really like that of Griffin vulture."  
  
"That's it get her started on birds," groaned Dylan playfully.  
  
"Hey birds are our friends," declared Natalie with fake indigence.  
  
"The man's name is Reynold Clarke; he has a long list of disciplinary actions against him. He had just been removed from his latest probation at the FBI and now this. He is considered dangerous and on the loose with Agent Matthews. Natalie, Alex, you need to bring this man to justice. Dylan, I know you are sitting there with a pout on your face," said Charlie. Dylan looked at the other two wondering how he knew. Alex and Nat just shrugged their shoulders. "But you need to get better, completely better before you jump back into duty. Understand."  
  
Dylan answered with a disappointed, "I understand."  
  
"Alex, Natalie, good luck. Dylan, get well."  
  
"Bye Charlie."  
  
"Man," said Dylan plopping back on the pile of pillows. "I am going to go nuts sitting here and doing nothing."  
  
"Maybe the Thin Man will visit," said Natalie. "Until then, rest and watch TV." She kissed her friend on the cheek, as did Alex and they pranced out of the room and held the door open for Mr. Getty.  
  
"Dylan," he said happily standing in the door way, "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you getting better."  
  
Dylan wasn't sure how to react. She had just learned that he was her father and hadn't really had the time to process the information. "Mr. Getty, come in."  
  
"Are you sure? I don't want to disturb you if you are resting."  
  
"Very sure. I am so bored I could pull my hair out." Realizing what she said made her think of Anthony. She hadn't seen him since she had woken up in ICU. "So how are you?"  
  
"Alive thanks to you and the other angels. I can't say that my secretary Mr. Bell faired so well. He was found dead in my hotel room with a puncture wound through his heart," said Getty sitting in the chair next to her bed. His words made Dylan's blood run cold. "I think we know who did that don't we." She wasn't sure how to respond. She chewed on her lip not saying anything. "I was fond of Mr. Bell but I do owe your life to.what's his name? Anthony?"  
  
"What do you mean you owe my life to him?" she asked puzzled.  
  
"The man went and found a cure. A cure that your doctor was told was impossible to make. He with the help of a friend, who is another doctor in the hospital apparently, insisted that Dr. Johnson give it to you. If it hadn't been for him you would have died."  
  
Speaking more to herself than Getty she said, "That's the second time he saved my life." It was now Getty's turn to look puzzled. Seeing the expression on his face she explained. "First you should know my mother named me Helen and I was Helen Elaine Zaas until I was 20. That is when I got involved with a guy I shouldn't have." It was embarrassing enough when she had to tell her friends the mistake she made dating Seamus. Telling the man who was her father was even harder.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"Seamus O'Grady," she said flatly.  
  
"O'Grady, you mean." he started and they finished together, "the Irish mob O'Grady."  
  
"Yep the one and the same. I put him in jail and by doing so I had to go into the witness protection program. That is where I got the name Dylan Sanders. I can tell you Dylan is nothing that Helen was.well maybe a little bit." She reached over and took the pitcher off the table and poured herself a glass of water. All the explaining she was doing had dried out her throat.  
  
Getty reached out and took Dylan's hand. "That is why I couldn't find you. I looked. I waited ages to look but I finally did and all I found were dead ends. When I heard you name was Dylan Sanders I assumed I had the first name wrong and your mother married so you took her husbands last name."  
  
Dylan closed her eyes. "My mom died when I was six. She never married. I think she was too in love with you to find anyone else." She could feel the anger and resentment building towards her newly found father. She didn't want to hate him but she remembered the dream she had on the plane. She remembered the man who argued with her mother and made her cry, it was Getty. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She reminded herself it was nice to know that he was her father but she wasn't required to have a relationship with the man if she didn't want to. The problem was she did want to. She had waited years for this and here he was.  
  
"Dylan." he began but she cut him off. "No, let me finish telling you how Anthony saved me." She told him the exact same thing that Anthony had told Dimitri but she left out the kiss. That she felt was something private between the two of them.  
  
"My God, Dylan that is some story. Are all your jobs like that? Are you sure that is what you want to do with your life?" he asked concerned for her welfare.  
  
"I'd say ninety percent give or take are like that and yes, I am sure this is what I want to do with my life. Being an angel has given me direction, the self-worth I was lacking before and Charlie has been like a father to me," said Dylan. Then she registered the hurt look on Getty's face at the comment about Charlie. She couldn't help it if it was true and neither could he.  
  
Getty smiled at her. "I couldn't have asked for stronger, braver, more beautiful daughter." He kissed her head and his cell phone rang. "Yes, I'll be right there," he said to the person on the other end. He then turned to Dylan, "I have to go now, company business but I'll be back in a couple hours to check on you and we can discuss the Anthony situation in more detail." Dylan smiled and waved good bye as he left the room still talking on the phone. She didn't know what Getty' idea of handling the situation would be but she was sure she would find out.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Gloria's job was to find out where Anthony was she would do that by locating the angel's room. She was certain if he was there in the hospital and that is where he would be. She had only one focus and that was seeing him dead like her sister. If she had to take out the angels that would be fine by her as well, but she knew that Clarke wanted to kill the Thin Man personally. It was an ego thing since he had defeated Clarke at the competition and she didn't approve of doing things for egotistical reasons. One thing she did approve of however was inflicting the maximum pain possible on ones enemies; no one was better than Clarke at that.  
  
"Nurse, nurse," she turned realizing that someone was speaking to her.  
  
"Yes," she said to Dr. Leon Williams.  
  
"I need you to take blood from this patient in room 319. Then run it down to the lab," said Leon handing her the patients chart.  
  
This was her chance she realized; maybe this doctor could help her out. "I heard that the girl hurt in the WTC was brought in a few nights ago. Have you heard anything about how she is doing?"  
  
"She's doing great; they hope to release her soon. Now please take care of the blood work its urgent," he said rushing off to check on his next patient.  
  
"Wonderful!" thought Gloria. "The little bitch lived and my sister died. Where is the fairness in that?" They would now have to take care of both the Thin Man and the angel. It would be even better if they were together at the time. He could watch his little girlfriend die. Now she had to find which room and if she was going to be released soon they would have to work fast. That is when she Clarke walking towards her. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "I thought we had a plan we were following."  
  
"We were. I decided to change the plan."  
  
"Without consulting me," she was mad, no more than mad, pissed off. He always did this to her changed the plan at the last minute then blamed her when a mistake was made.  
  
"I am FBI agent Reynold Clarke; I am looking for room 312. I have to ask the patient some questions about what happened at the WTC the other evening at the Arie Crown Theater. Could you show me where that is, nurse?" he asked being the consummate professional. Even Matthews had to smile at that. Clarke could be charming if he wanted to and this was one of the times.  
  
"Right this way sir," she said and led the way down the hall to Dylan's room. 


	26. Clarke and Matthews

A/N: First I would rate this R for language. And yeah I know what a dull chapter name. Its good enough i suppose. I think it turned out pretty well. Please review! I really want to know what you think of this chapter.  
  
A/N 2: Skyfire4- thanks for your comments. I find dialogue easier to write than scenery descriptions. I suppose that comes from seeing everything in my mind in terms of screenplay directions (too many college courses). I just find people have an easier time reading in regular story form.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan reached over and pressed the button that lowered the lights in the room. She may have been unconscious for thirty hours but the virus had worn her out. She snuggled under the rough woolen blanket and closed her eyes. She didn't want to sleep though, she was lonely. She wasn't sure how that was possible Alex and Natalie had stayed for two hours before Getty arrived. "You aren't lonely for just anyone. You want him to be here," the illogical part of her said. Even the rational part had to agree, that was it. She wanted Anthony to be there. She wondered where he had gone and if he would be back. She wanted to thank him for saving her. Dylan clasped her hand around the medallion that dangled from her neck and fell into a quiet sleep.  
  
Anthony entered the hospital after going back to the hotel to change his suit. As he walked past hospital reception he ran into one of the two expectant fathers from earlier. "Hey," said the dad stopping him, "just thought you'd like to know, we had twin." Anthony didn't know why this man who he had acknowledged briefly thought he cared. "A boy and a girl. We can't decide what to name them though; maybe Emily and David or Susan and Edward. What do you think of these teddy bears?" The man babbled holding two bears one pink and one blue out for his inspection. Anthony looked at the bears and had a weird notion, he hadn't thought about a get well present for Dylan. Normally he wasn't wishing people well he was killing them. He turned and walked back towards the gift shop leaving the new father going on about bears and whether buying ones in pink and blue were gender biased, to himself.  
  
He browsed the gift shop not finding anything; part of the problem was he wasn't sure what she liked. "Can I help you?" asked a feminine voice from behind him. He turned to see a teenage girl not more than sixteen standing behind him. He pulled out his pad and wrote, "I need a gift for a friend."  
  
"Man or woman?" she asked. Anthony didn't know what he was doing. He felt like an alien had taken over his body. "Woman," he wrote.  
  
"Hmmm.have you thought about a stuffed animal? Women love them. Or jewelry? Or maybe a music box?" He thought a moment and shook his head "no". "Okay, then maybe flowers," the girl suggested leading him over to the florist that was part of the gift shop. Anthony looked at the blossoms that had been arranged by color. Nothing seemed quite right until he saw it a single pale pink colored rose with petals fringed in the deepest red that they were almost black. He plucked it from its container and handed it to the sales girl. "That is lovely and so romantic. A single rose. I wish my boyfriend would do something like that for me, but he only seems to have time for his car," she said ringing up the flower.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Isn't that cute?" asked Clarke peeking in the window of Dylan's room, "She's asleep." He peered up and down the hall making sure there was no one around to ask question as to what they were doing.  
  
Gloria shoved her way in front and looked in as well. "So what now?" she asked. "He isn't here and we can't wait all day."  
  
"Gloria, Gloria, Gloria, calm down and relax. I had an idea about this. You know I plan ahead. We just abduct her. Leave a note and tell him where to come to and claim her. Once he is there I kill him and we let her go or you can do whatever with her. I don't really care," he said as though talking to a child and slowly opening the door.  
  
Matthews hated when he patronized her but there wasn't much she could do about it. She tapped him on the shoulder. "So how are we going to get her out of here? You just can't throw her over your shoulder and walk out."  
  
"That my dear is exactly what I am going to do," said Clarke and entered the room with Gloria close behind him.  
  
"You keep watch," he whispered to her loudly. Gloria went back to the door and watched what her partner was doing in-between steeling glances out the window. Clarke reached into his pocket and produced a sepia bottle and a handkerchief.  
  
"What is that?" she whispered as Clarke poured the liquid onto the cloth.  
  
"Chloroform." He stepped closer to the bed and Dylan rolled sleepily over. As he leaned towards her she opened her eyes and kicked him in the chest. The Chloroform bottle fell to the tiled floor in a spray of liquid and glass. "You little bitch!" he yelled and lunged at her but she jumped to the other side of the bed. The fumes from the chemical were bothering his lungs and making him groggy. "Don't let her get out of here Gloria:"  
  
Dylan hadn't seen the other woman standing by the door. "Don't worry Clarke, "she won't get out of her without us carrying her out."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony stepped out of the elevator and noticed his friend Leon in the waiting room looking at the TV. He walked over and tapped Leon on the shoulder. "Hey, Quiet Man, you almost gave me a heart attack. Damn!" he said grabbing his chest. "I was just watching this breaking news report they're talking about some rogue FBI agents"  
  
Anthony looked up at the TV on the wall. "These two people, Agents Reynold Clarke and Gloria Matthews are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Do not attempt to apprehend them yourself. Call the police." said the voice of the WGN newscaster as the pictures of Matthews and Clarke flashed up on the screen.  
  
"I've seen that woman," said Leon. "I just don't know where."  
  
Taking his notepad out of his pocket he wrote, "When?!?"  
  
Leon rubbed his temples trying to remember where he had seen her. Then he snapped his fingers. "Today. She is a nurse here." Then he realized what he had said. "My god she isn't a nurse here, she is dressed as a nurse here." Anthony turned and ran towards Dylan's room, the rose still in his hand and Leon following.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Get away from me," Dylan coughed and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Clarke lunged for her again. She jumped back over the bed and started to go for the door, cutting her feet on the slivers of broken bottle. Clarke, however was too quick and grabbed her with his arms around her waist. Dylan brought her head back and hit it as hard as she could against his face. She heard a loud crack as he dropped one hand and yelled, "You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!"  
  
"Do you think anyone will be able to tell?" she asked and kicked him in the shin. This time he let loose his grip on her and she fell to the floor. When she was down he kicked her in the ribs. She felt the gas from the chloroform burning her lungs and making her eyes water. He kicked her again. She cried out and tried to get up off the floor. As Dylan used the edge of the bed for leverage he grabbed her by her hair and hit her in the stomach over and over.  
  
"Clarke what are you doing? You're going to kill her!" screamed Gloria. This wasn't the plan at all. She knew Clarke was not very stable mentally, one of the reasons he fit so well into the fight at the Chief's, but the angel had apparently helped him across the line when she commented on his nose. Gloria grabbed his hand as he pulled it back to punch the angel again. He dropped Dylan to the floor like a rag doll and shoved Gloria across the room. With a crash she went sprawling into the small desk on the other side.  
  
"You interfering whore!" he yelled at Gloria. "If I want to kill her I will. I am large and in charge!" Dylan tried to get up but she hurt, pretty sure he had broken a couple of her ribs and her feet stung. She knew that not all the blood on the floor was from Clarke's nose. Dylan grabbed the bed again and tried to raise herself off the floor. Just then the door to the room swung open revealing Anthony and Leon. At the same moment Clarke emptied all six shots of his revolver into Gloria.  
  
Clarke turned surprised to see Anthony standing there. "Well, well, it looks like Glory was right you did show up to see your little girlfriend." He aimed the gun at Anthony and shot but nothing happened, just a small click. He looked at the gun in surprise not realizing he used all six shots to kill his accomplice. Anthony saw his opportunity. He drew his sword and charged at the large crazed FBI agent. Clarke dodged his thrust and spun kicking Anthony backwards into Leon.  
  
"You think you are a better fighter than me? Think you are something because you beat me at the Chief's? Well think again. This time you aren't going to win," called Clarke to Anthony.  
  
Anthony stood and attacked Clarke again. Dylan watched as the two men struggled with each other. Clarke kicked but Anthony ducked deciding that it would be best to let the large man wear himself out. Clarke was in good shape though, he wasn't going to be so easy to exhaust. They went on fighting for what seemed like ages. Clarke then remembered Dylan just as she tried to get out the door but Clarke jerked her back by her hair and threw her across the room. "I don't think you are going anywhere until I'm done with your boyfriend."  
  
That was enough for Dylan. She summoned her remaining strength hit him over the head with the bedpan then fell to the floor as her cut feet couldn't hold her any longer. Clarke stopped for a moment with a surprised look on his face and collapsed onto the floor next to her. Anthony let out a scream and aimed his sword for Clarke's heart. "No, Anthony don't" cried Dylan remembering how Mr. Bell was found in the hotel room. He didn't stop. He couldn't. He saw nothing but the man that he was certain arranged for him to be attacked in California which resulted in Dimitri's death. He was the man who had beaten Dylan. He ran the sword into the man's heart.  
  
Dylan watched in horror as Anthony stabbed the man. She saw his eyes steely, cold and unfeeling. She knew she shouldn't feel bad that Agent Reynold Clarke was dead especially since he, without a second, thought killed Gloria Matthews and would have killed her. It was that Anthony didn't need to kill him that bothered her. It was how easily he took the man's life as he lay unconscious on the floor.  
  
Anthony pulled his sword out of Clarke's chest as Leon ran over and took his pulse. He walked towards Dylan and held out his hand. "Get away from me!" she hissed and shrunk away from him. She didn't want anything to do with him right now. She had known he was an assassin but watching him actually kill the man made her blood turn to ice. Anthony looked down at her with sad eyes.  
  
"Listen man," said Leon resting his hand on Anthony's shoulder. "It's a clear case of self defense and if Dylan backs it up when the police arrive.it shouldn't be a problem." Leon's words were falling on deaf ears. "You'll tell them he killed the man in self defense right?" asked Leon looking hopefully at Dylan.  
  
"How can you call what he did self-defense? You're a doctor and Clarke was unconscious." Then to Anthony she said, "I asked you not to. Why didn't you stop?"  
  
How he could explain, he wondered. Maybe the dark was all he knew. He looked at Dylan on the floor bruised and battered and fearful of him, loathing him. Currently he loathed himself too, but he had only done what came so naturally. "I was wrong to try to go towards the light with the angels," he thought. "I only belong in the darkness with the demons." He laid the sword on the bed and walked out of the room. As he left he noticed the rose he bought for Dylan laying partially under the bed, crumpled and broken, and thought, "How symbolic."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
It wasn't long before Natalie and Alex returned. They were surprised to see the room, blood was everywhere but housekeeping was trying to clean it up. A police officer directed them to a room down the hall. Dylan was lying in bed looking at a wilted rose with missing petals. A nurse was removing the shards of glass from her feet. "Dylan," said Natalie, "What happened?"  
  
Dylan looked up from the rose her eyes full of pain. "Sweetie, tell us what went on," said Alex sitting on the other side of the bed.  
  
The nurse stopped removing the glass and smiled at Dylan, "I'm all done. Now don't walk on those for awhile. When you are all done talking to your friends I'll be back to bandage them."  
  
Dylan just nodded and watched her leave. "Dylan tell us what happened?"  
  
"Clarke and Matthews showed up while I was asleep and tried to kidnap me. Clarke killed Matthews and then the Thin Man showed up." Nat and Alex looked at each other worriedly. It couldn't be good if she was calling Anthony "The Thin Man."  
  
"What happened then," asked Nat pulling a chair over.  
  
"He killed Clarke. I asked him not to do it. Clarke was unconscious but he killed him anyway. It was as though.." She drifted off.  
  
"As though?" asked Alex urging her to continue.  
  
Dylan wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand. "It was as though he had no conscious." She didn't know how to explain all that was bothering her; how Leon and her father, who had left before the angels arrived, defended him to the police; how she hated Anthony's actions but still felt something for him, or how she was tired and confused and mad at herself for loving him to begin with. 


	27. Home Sweet Home

This is a short chapter. Sorry! The next will be longer. Trust me. It is already written.  
  
*-*-*-*-* Donald Getty was surprised when a police officer called him at his hotel and asked him to come down to the police station. The officer said it had to do with the attack on Dylan in her hospital room. Now he stood outside the cell where Anthony sat. "So you turned yourself in." It wasn't a question but a statement.  
  
Anthony turned his head and looked at the man and but didn't move from the bunk on which he sat. After he left the hospital he had wandered around aimlessly wondering how everything had become so difficult. Killing had always been easy for him. He was quick and focused. When he killed he used every ounce of anger he had at the world, at the death of his parents, at the way the other children had treated him. He felt no remorse for killing the people who he learned to think of as nothing more but assignments. Most of the people he killed anyway would have killed someone innocent in the long run so many times he just though of ending their lives as a preventative measure, nothing to feel remorseful or guilty about; until he met her and she became his conscience.  
  
"So," said Getty. "They let me read your statement. You admitted to killing the man in the hospital room." Anthony didn't respond. "They said that your statement matches what your friend Dr. Wilson and Dylan said to the officers at the scene."  
  
At that Anthony looked up. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. What you should be surprised about is that they aren't pressing any charges against you for killing that woman Vivian Wood. They seem to think that you saved a lot of people that evening and with that I happen to agree. Mr. Bell, my secretary on the other hand you didn't have any reason to kill."  
  
Still sitting on the bunk looking at Getty with his pale blue eyes, the Thin Man wondered what they point of the man's visit was. If it was to tell him he would be going to jail for life and possibly put to death, he already knew that. He was ready.  
  
"Still Anthony, I told them it was an accident." At that his eyes widened and his eyebrow went up. "Considering you don't talk you certainly are expressive. Yes, I told them it was an accident and the charges were dropped. Money is power- that and Dylan asked me to. Now I know you obviously aren't the type to go wild and thank me but I do have one request in return for your release. I want you to give Dylan time and space. I want her to think and make sure if you are really what she wants. If she chooses and contacts you that is fine and well but after today I sincerely doubt she will be rushing after you. So," said Getty stepping closer towards the bars, "do we have a deal?" He held his hand through waiting for the agreement to be closed with a shake.  
  
Anthony nodded. After today he didn't plan on having any contact with her anyway. He stood and shook Getty's hand. "Guard!" yelled Getty. A young officer came into the holding area. "The man agreed." The officer nodded and unlocked Anthony's cell.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
It was a week later. Dylan had mostly recovered, her feet had almost completely healed, and her ribs luckily weren't broken from Clarke's punches only bruised. The one thing that she hadn't recovered from yet was her broken heart. Now she sat on the couch of the office waiting for the other angels to arrive. She absently reached for the medallion around her neck only to remember it wasn't there anymore. She had taken it off and it now stayed in the small jewelry box on her dresser. She had since forgiven him for killing Clarke, but he had never returned after she yelled at him. She assumed that he didn't want anything to do with her and thus the necklace was removed and stored.  
  
Natalie was the first to arrive. "Dylan, you're on time."  
  
Dylan smiled. She could understand Natalie's surprise it was after all a Monday. "Yeah, I guess I am on time."  
  
"So did you like your week off," she asked.  
  
"It was quiet. Just what I needed," said Dylan. "How did the case about the missing diamonds go?"  
  
"Mrs. Hardy stole them herself she apparently had huge debts due to betting on the horses that she couldn't cover. It was pretty open and shut once we got on it," said Alex closing the main door to the office behind her. "So how are you feeling Dylan? I brought muffins."  
  
Dylan and Natalie exchanged a look and burst out laughing. "Hey! Okay I admit my first few batches were a bit on the heavy side. I found out the problem was too much baking powder but Jason says these one are great," she said holding the basket out first to Natalie. She took one and got ready for the impact of her teeth against the "Chinese fighting muffin" as she bit into it. To her surprise they were really good.  
  
"Wow! Alex these are good," said Natalie as she licked the crumbs from her lips.  
  
Dylan looked at Natalie trying to ascertain if she was joking and Alex was looking at Dylan expectantly. "Oh okay," said Dylan as she reached into the basket and plucked out a muffin. She took a bite. "Wow is right. These are actually good Alex. What bakery did you stop at on the way here?"  
  
Alex normally would have been mad but she had visited Dylan while she was recovering the past week and any jokes from her were a good sign that things were getting back to normal. "Very funny," she said. "I'll take the fact that you can suggest that they are from a bakery as a compliment." Just then Bosley came in. "Hey Bos, want a muffin?"  
  
"Uh, I just have a dentist appointment later today. I don't think it's a good idea," he said pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
  
"They are good Bos," said Dylan. Reluctantly he took one from the basket and took a bit also amazed that they WERE just plain blueberry for once and not the fighting ones.  
  
"Oh look at the time," said Bosley and went to the desk just as the phone rang.  
  
"Good Morning Angels"  
  
"Good Morning Charlie," replied the Angels together.  
  
"Dylan it's good to have you back."  
  
"It's good to be back," she said smiling at her friends.  
  
"First off I have some things to discuss. Dylan you may or may not wish to listen. The choice is yours," said Charlie gently. Dylan firmly insisted on staying. "First a man came forwards last week and confessed to the murder of Dimitri Aleskandrov." The angels looked at each other. The name meant nothing to them.  
  
"Who is Dimitri Aleskandrov?" asked Alex.  
  
"He was a Russian microbiologist during the Cold War and the man responsible for creating the cure for Dylan. The man who killed him, Robert Kellner confessed to being hired by Reynold Clarke to try to kill Anthony. He said that during the attack on Anthony his group accidentally killed the scientist."  
  
"What about the rest of this group of his," asked Natalie, "what do they say?"  
  
"Apparently he was the only one who got away." replied Charlie. "Anthony defeated the others." The angels were entirely sure how the others had been defeated but they had a pretty good idea. The funeral for Mr. Aleksandrov is this afternoon at three. Since you said you wanted to thank him, Dylan, I thought you might be interested in attending."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Anthony walked through his apartment which was filled with cardboard boxes. Some were labeled to go to the orphanage others were marked for a shipping company. Everything was packed. He had decided to at least partial obey Dimitri's last wish, he was getting out of the business, however he had no desire to find a woman and settle down. He had that chance and ruined it so he decided to move to his family's homeland of Romania. He had occasionally been back over the years and even bought an apartment in Bucharest. Tomorrow he would be on a plane that would take him home. He checked his pocket for the plane ticket, it was there. He reached in and pulled it out and as he did so he also took out a lock of red-gold hair that had become trapped in the ticket envelope. He took the hair and looked at it. He wanted to throw it away but decided it was better to keep it as a reminder of his past mistakes so he took the hair and placed it back in his pocket.  
  
Air France Flight 69 Los Angeles to Paris to Bucharest. "Los Angeles" he thought, "It sounds a lot like Lost Angels," and smiled sadly to himself. "It will be good to get away. To start over." Today however he had the funeral of his friend Dimitri to attend. He looked out the window and watched the dark clouds begin to form a gray blanket over the city. Anthony though about how fitting it was.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The meeting with Charlie was soon over. "You're not going to the funeral are you?" asked Natalie her voice full of concern.  
  
"I think I am," replied Dylan. "I think it would give me some closure on the whole mess to thank the man for the cure. It apparently cost him his life. Then I think I'm headed to Ikea I need to neutralize the white. I still can't believe that that woman Alantra won't give me back my apartment."  
  
"Charlie said there was a mistake in the lease she signed," said Alex.  
  
"I know, I know. I just thought that I could go home and now I have to live in Lucy's place. I know I am Lucy or was Lucy but I'm not I am Dylan and I want my place. So what if the other is nicer. It's not me."  
  
"I think you should make the best of it. It really is a great condo." said Natalie. "Think of all the sexy guys you can look at on the beach from your window." Natalie's comment on sexy guys on the beach made her think of Emmers which in turn made her think of Anthony and in Dylan's mind that wasn't a good thing it just made her heart ache. She had to move on and she planned on turning over a new leaf, one that involved her falling for good guys who didn't kill people.  
  
"Do you want us to come with you to the funeral?" asked Alex.  
  
"No, I think this is something I want to do by myself," said Dylan picking up her purse. "But if you guys want to you can come with me later to buy furniture. I really need a new mattress for that bed. I'll meet you here about five?"  
  
"Sounds good," said Natalie. "It is great to have you back." 


	28. Te iu Besc

Ok I speak no Romanian none what-so-ever. I do know a guy from Romania but I don't know when I will be seeing him next and I didn't want to wait. I'm sure the grammar stinks (Romanian) but the words I found on the internet. Enjoy!  
  
*-*-*-*-* He stood alone in the rain holding his black umbrella which contained a sword in the handle above his head. The Priest, Father Martin said words over the body of his good friend Dimitri Aleskandrov. Anthony knew Dimitri would be disappointed in him for not living up to his promise in its entirety, he just couldn't. He cared so much about the angel it made his heart ache but despite remembering Dimitri's words about love he didn't feel deserving of that of the angel. He had to move on.  
  
After the fight at the hospital, he killed Clarke in cold blood even after Dylan screamed at him to stop, he couldn't face her and he doubted that she wanted to see him. He felt no remorse in killing the man who had emptied his gun into Matthews and was ready to murder Dylan.  
  
When the sermon was over Father Martin left the cemetery and Anthony was left alone. He stayed and watched the men fill the grave with dirt and carefully place the black polished marble headstone. He knelt next to the stone in the muddy earth and ran his fingers over the engraving: Dimitri Aleskandrov 1924-2004 A brilliant man and a dear friend. He leaned his head against the cool marble and tears slid silently down his face. Not all that fell were for his deceased friend but also for his lost love.  
  
Dylan didn't know why she was there at the funeral. She rationalized it to herself as thanking the man who created the vaccine that saved her but part of her she pushed down was hoping for something else. She got out of her car and realized she had forgotten her umbrella back at the office. "That is just like me always forgetting something. At least I remembered flowers." She removed the lilies from the backseat. Sighing she continued on her way. She knew that she was late and hoped that the funeral wasn't yet over. "Excuse me," she said to one of the grave diggers that were walking down the cobblestone path. "I am looking for the funeral of Mr. Aleskandrov."  
  
"Lady you missed it. It ended a half hour ago. Don't get me wrong when I say this but it was a sorry sight. Only one guy showed up. We finished filling in the deceased's grave about ten minutes ago. It looks all pretty through."  
  
"Where is it?" she asked.  
  
"Up the slope there and last one on the end cant miss it. We haven't laid the sod yet. Once the tail end of this typhoon blows over we will lay it don't worry."  
  
Dylan thanked him and followed his instructions walking up the slope and to the end of the line of headstones where one lone man knelt on the freshly dug grave. Her heart ached as she saw Anthony there the rain soaking though his jacket, the umbrella he carried long since abandoned. He didn't hear her approach and she placed her hand on his shoulder.  
  
Anthony didn't acknowledge the touch. Normally he would have gone into defensive mode but today he didn't care if he was attacked. "Anthony," she said softly. He raised his head but he didn't look at her. He hoped she would go away she was making everything more difficult. "Are you alright?" He stared straight ahead unmoving. "He must have meant a lot to you."  
  
Dylan was getting worried. Even though he was quiet she had never seen him like this. He looked so lost next to the grave stone his typical cool persona gone. She squatted down next to him, her hair now hanging in wet ribbons around her face, and placed her arms around him. At first he stiffened then relaxed, but he still didn't look at her. "Why don't we go somewhere and get some coffee and dry off? We could go to my place. I don't live that far from here."  
  
Anthony didn't understand why she was being nice to him. If he was in her position he certainly wouldn't have been nice. He slowly turned his head and looked at the young woman next to him. She was drenched by the rain. The black blazer and white blouse she had on were soaked and he could see the bra she wore underneath the transparent material. He reached up and brushed a wet lock of hair out of her face.  
  
Dylan stood and took a hold of his hand. She tugged it lightly and he stood as well. She smiled, she didn't think she had ever seen him look so disheveled before; soaked by the rain and muddy, she liked it. "So do you want some coffee or not."  
  
Anthony nodded at her and picked up his umbrella holding it over their heads. "A little late for that don't you think?" she asked with a soft smile. He looked at her, then imagined what he must look like and lowered the umbrella. They walked to the parking lot where theirs were the only two cars, her classic mustang and his black Z-4. He started for his and she started for hers. "Why don't you ride with me? I can give you a ride back here later and you can pick yours up." He hesitated but then turned and walked to the driver's side of her car and tried to take her keys. "No, I don't think so. I'm driving," she said ducking and moving away from him. He relented he didn't feel like fighting today and got in the passenger side.  
  
Dylan reached over and turned on the radio. She didn't think she could keep a one sided conversation going both in the car and at her apartment. "Maybe I should have let him take his own car," she thought as they drove down the rain soaked roads. She leaned over and turned on the radio. "Do you mind?" she asked. He shrugged and she switched on.  
  
Anthony didn't know what he was doing. He had planned on having no contact with her unless of course they met while she was on one of her cases and he doubted they would have any cases in Bucharest. All his planning was for naught the moment she put her arms around him and any resistance he had crumbled. He was lost in his thoughts until Dylan said, "We're here." Anthony looked at the expensive beachfront condo and cocked and eyebrow at Dylan. "It's Lucrezia's. They couldn't get the person in my old place out so I get to keep it. I really want to redecorate soon. All the white is a bit .well white," she said as they walked up to her unit. Smiling she opened the door and said, "Welcome to my new home."  
  
Anthony looked around the stark white apartment. She had been right way too much white or course people would have said the same thing about the amount of black in his own. Dylan called from the bathroom, "Make yourself at home. Sit on the couch, do whatever you want." Her comment about doing whatever he wanted made his mind race with thoughts of her on the couch.and "No," he told himself, "she is a friend and nothing else." A friend; that is how he decided he would think of her, nothing more.  
  
He sat on the couch and flipped through some of the magazines on the table. Suddenly a towel zipped through the air and hit him on the back of the head. He turned and saw that she was wrapped up in a white robe her hair in a towel turban on her head smiling. It reminded him of when he came to her room at the Chief's. "Dry off. If you want you can take a shower and there is another robe in the bathroom." He took off his wet suit jacket, dried his hair, removed his tie, and then unbuttoned his wet shirt. "I'll bring you a t-shirt. I have a couple in XL that will fit you."  
  
Dylan went into the bedroom and dug through a box of her things looking for a shirt for him. Seeing him take off his shirt brought her desires to the surface. "Down girl," she thought to herself, "keep in mind he's a killer and you are not going to get involved with another 'bad guy'; even if it is him." She found what she was looking for and took it to the living room. She knew he had his shirt off but she had never seen him without one before. She stopped a moment and watched him flip through "Guns and Ammo" admiring his physique. While he wasn't overtly muscular like Seamus he was sleek and reminded her of a panther. She briefly fanned her face and brought him the shirt. "Here you go."  
  
He took the shirt from her, held it up and looked at it; "Def Leppard Hysteria Tour 1988" was emblazoned across the front of it. He lifted an eyebrow. "Ok so you aren't the Def Leppard type but it's all I can find." As Anthony started to pull it over his head Dylan couldn't help but reach out and touch the still pink scar on his chest, a reminder of the sword.  
  
He froze as he felt her finger tips graze the sensitive scar on his chest. Her hand was warm compared to his flesh. As quickly as her hand was there it was gone. He pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head but she was gone. He heard her moving about in the kitchen.  
  
"How do you like your coffee," Dylan called out. She was so embarrassed .She didn't know what possessed her to touch him like that. She only knew that it felt right to do it at that moment. She hoped that he wouldn't bring it up. "Do you take milk or sugar or both?" She looked up from doctoring her coffee and he was there writing something. He handed her the slip of paper. Dylan was almost afraid to look at what he had written luckily it was only his coffee order, "Black, nothing in it." "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she asked with a smile. They walked back into the living room together and sat on the couch.  
  
"Were you and Mr. Aleksandrov close?" she asked.  
  
Anthony nodded and wrote, "He took me in after I left the orphanage. He taught me everything I know about swords and fighting." He remembered the picture he had taken off the wall at Dimitri's that he carried in his pocket. He got up from the couch and found his jacket hanging over the shower in the bathroom. The picture was slightly moist but in good shape still and he brought it into the living room. He handed it to Dylan.  
  
"Boy! You were young. How old were you when this was taken?" she asked. He looked at her carefully and saw that she was sincere in wanting to know. He took a deep breath and softly said "Seventeen." He saw her eyes fill with encouragement and spoke a little louder, "I was seventeen." He turned his head slightly embarrassed.  
  
"You spoke. I thought I heard you say my name at the theater but when I woke up I wasn't sure anymore." She reached out her hand and touched his face and turned him towards her. "I like your accent," she said smiling at him. "Mother Superior said that your family came from Romania. Do you speak Romanian?"  
  
"Magnific par. Te iu besc" he said with a small smile.  
  
"What does that mean?" she asked.  
  
Anthony wasn't sure if he should tell her the truth or not. He decided partially, "Beautiful hair." He couldn't admit to loving her yet, not in a language she understood anyway.  
  
"All that for 'beautiful hair'?"  
  
"Yes," he said and reached out and touched a strand.  
  
Dylan scooted a bit closer to him and took the picture in her hand. "He looks like a nice man."  
  
"He was. He cared about me. The only person who ever really did besides my parents," said Anthony sadly. "His dying wish was that I quit."  
  
"Quit? Being an assassin you mean?" Anthony nodded. "Are you going to?"  
  
"I am going to try to quit. He wanted me to find a girl and get married. That isn't going to happen," he said bitterly and took a sip of the coffee.  
  
Dylan felt her heart break. Here she was trying to stop feeling for him and yet when he said that Dimitri wanted him to find a girl and get married her heart chimed, "Me! Me! Me!" and beat faster. "Too bad he doesn't want me back," she thought keeping a smile on her face. "How can you be so sure you won't find someone?" she asked.  
  
He didn't answer. He set his coffee on the table and walked over to the window that gave a view of the stormy grey ocean. "Vivian said it best, 'only a freak can love a freak'." Dylan stood and walked over to him and said angrily, "What did Vivian know? She was a bitter woman who liked hurting people. She took pleasure in other peoples' misery, and by the way you aren't a freak, and if you are then I must be one too."  
  
Anthony turned and looked at her realizing the meaning behind her statement. He looked into her green eyes and wondered if she was joking with him but saw nothing of the sort, only deep sincerity. "Dylan," he started but wasn't sure what to say.  
  
"Sshh," she said not believe she was telling him to be quiet. "I need to say something and I don't blame you if you want to turn and leave afterwards. It's okay if you do just remember your car is still at the cemetery." Anthony waited for her to continue. Dylan took a deep breath; all the while the rational part of her brain told her not to do this, not to start a relationship with him. Her heart told the brain to shut up. This was the hardest thing she ever said yet it was so easy to say to Seamus. Maybe it was because she didn't really mean it when she said it to him. "I love you." The words sped out of her mouth. "There I said it. I don't expect you to return the feelings but ." Anthony leaned down and stopped her words with a kiss. Dylan felt the same warmth spread through her being that she had in the hotel in Chicago. Her head felt light and her stomach like she was in airplane turbulence. When he stopped kissing her he looked into her eyes and said, "Te iu besc."  
  
"Was that something about my hair again?" she asked. He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her again. 


	29. Te iu Besc part 2

Dylan never wanted anything as much as she wanted him at the moment. She tried to determine the best way to get from where they were to the bedroom. Anthony pulled away, as sad look clouded his eyes. "I need to go."  
  
"What? You haven't finished your coffee," she said searching for a reason to make him stay longer.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I need to take care of a few things."  
  
"What kind of things?" she asked approaching him. Anthony took a step back from her as she reached out to lay her hand on his arm.  
  
"I leave tomorrow for Bucharest," he said simply, avoiding her eyes.  
  
"You're leaving the country? For how long?" she asked.  
  
"Forever," he replied. Dylan didn't think her heart could break worse than it did in the hospital when he killed Clarke but she was wrong. It was now shattering in her chest. It was all she could do to fight back the tears. "I suppose you are busy then. I'm sorry I kept you. Just let me get dressed and I'll drive you back to your car." Before Anthony could respond she had gone into the bedroom to change.  
  
He looked at her retreating form. "Go to her boy. Love her well," said Dimitri's voice ringing through his head. He shook his head thinking it was only a memory of the man's last words to him. "I told you I would watch out for you. Tell her you love her, in English this time. Just because you want what is best for her doesn't mean you are giving it to her by leaving." He shook his head again and rubbed his ears, he had to be hallucinating. Dimitri was dead and buried. "Yes, I'm buried but I can't rest until you stop being a fool," said the voice of the old Russian. "Trust me Anton; you don't want me haunting you for the rest of your days."  
  
Dylan sat on the bed not yet crying just wondering when everything became complicated. It never seemed to work out how it did in the movies. It was supposed to. She was supposed to tell him she loved him and he was supposed to say the same and they would live happily ever after. She remembered Getty's words to her at the hospital, "You are an heiress now. You don't have to ever settle for second best." She knew he had been trying to make her feel better about the fact that Anthony didn't return to the hospital. She just resented that he had implied that because she wasn't filthy rich she only attracted losers.She slowly removed the robe lost in her thoughts. She never heard Anthony come from the living room and stand in the door way to her room.  
  
"Okay Dimitri, I hope this is enough for you to rest," he thought and approached the bedroom. She had left the door open and he could see her back to him and removing the bathrobe. She untied the belt and let the robe drop in a puddle around her ankles. Then removed the towel her hair was wrapped in and tossed it on the bed. Anthony couldn't believe how beautiful she was as she stood there. She reminded him of "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. Her skin was a luminescent, flawless cream. He wanted to reach out and touch her more than he had ever wanted to take her hair.  
  
At his intake of breath at seeing her undressed she grabbed the towel off the bed, quickly wrapped it around herself and turned to him. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm s-s-sorry." he stammered and tried to divert his eyes. "I didn't mean to stare." He remembered his nights with Vivian and realized how she was absolutely nothing compared to the angel in front of him. He couldn't keep his eyes diverted for long and looked back at her and saw a tear roll down her cheek. He took a step forward and wiped it away with the ball of his thumb. That only succeeded in making her cry harder. All the pent up anger and hurt finally broke through the wall she had built. "Dylan," he whispered. That is when she slapped him. He looked at her with surprise.  
  
"You are a jerk!" she yelled. "I hate you!" Then she hit him again. He wasn't sure what he did wrong a moment ago she had told him she loved him. Dylan was finally getting her anger out of her system, she dropped the towel and kicked and punched him. He blocked her blows and tried not to deliver any of his own. "You killed him in cold blood!" She kicked. "You never told me you were still alive!" She punched. "You tied me up to the bed at the Chief's" She punched again. "You ripped my hair out!" She kicked. "I told you I loved you and you are leaving anyway!" She punched on more time this one hitting him in the face. He stumbled over a pair of shoes she left in the middle of the floor and fell.  
  
Anthony watched her sit on the bed defeated, looking at him. He stood and brushed himself off. He removed the t-shirt she had loaned him, folded it neatly and placed it on the bed. "If she is that angry at me," he thought heading towards the door to the bathroom, "I'll just leave."  
  
"No, Anton." said Dimitri's voice in his head. "Kiss her."  
  
At the door he stopped, turned and stood in front of the naked angel sitting on the bed. He knelt down in front of her so they were at the same level and kissed her passionately. He could feel her breasts warm and soft against his chest and his hands caressed her back. He could taste the salt of her tears. He reached up and wound the fiery strands of her hair around his fingers as Dylan moaned lightly into his mouth. Suddenly she pulled away looking frightened. "No, I won't do this. I don't want a one afternoon stand."  
  
"Tell her," the ghost whispered in his head.  
  
"Te iu besc, I love you," Anthony said, his voice barely a whisper afraid that she wouldn't believe him, afraid he had waited too long. "I don't want an afternoon stand either."  
  
"That's what this would be though wouldn't it? You are leaving in the morning. You said so yourself."  
  
Anthony shook his head `no'. "No?" asked Dylan unconvinced.  
  
"If you want me to I will stay," he said.  
  
"I didn't want you to kill Clarke but you did it anyway," she argued.  
  
He looked at her sadly and started to turn away again. "Wait," said Dylan. He stopped in his tracks his back towards her, "I want you to stay." He was getting tired of the "go-stay-go" game he felt they were playing. Whatever her next choice was that is what he would do.  
  
He looked at her, gave her one of his patented arched eyebrows and asked, "Are you sure?"  
  
"I might regret it later but I'm sure," she said. Anthony headed for the bathroom. "Where are you going?" she called after him. He smirked at the panic in her voice and removed the ticket from his jacket pocket; it was soaked and pretty much paper pulp. He brought the soggy ticket into the bedroom and handed it to her.  
  
"What is this?" He nodded at her to open it. "Your plane ticket." She said disbelievingly.  
  
"Tear it up. I don't need it," he said. She looked at him skeptically not sure if she should. "I can't," she said.  
  
He swung one of his lanky legs around her so he was seated behind her on the bed. "Together," he whispered in her ear giving her goose bumps. Together they tore the ticket into little damp pieces. "I thought I was going home but I suppose with you I already am," he whispered kissing her neck. Dylan absolutely agreed. This was as close to home as she had ever felt and she didn't want it to end. She turned around and pushed him back on the bed straddling his legs and pinning his arms above his head. "Let me ask just this one last thing. Okay? You are staying in LA and you aren't an assassin, and you love me? I know that was three things but just answer."  
  
Anthony nodded. It was all he could do, she was making him crazy. "Are you sure?" she asked playfully. He nodded harder. "Because if you aren't then." he flipped her over onto the bed so he was on top.  
  
Dylan knew it had been cruel to tease him but she couldn't help it. She wanted him to desire her just as much as she did him. She fumbled with the fastenings of his pants, wanting him to be as naked as she was. He wasn't assisting in anyway. She looked at him and he was shaking his head "no". "No what?" she asked.  
  
"Not yet," he whispered. Dylan had never been one to beg but currently she was on the verge. He began kissing her again, down the side of her neck, the delicate line of her collar bone, her shoulder, moving over to the side of her rib cage kissing each fading bruise that had been left as a reminder of Clarke's fists.  
  
"Anthony," she breathed his name as he moved his mouth to her breasts, kissing each in turn and working his way lower. It was too much for her to take. Just the feeling of his breath on her body and the barely there touches of his lips were drove her over the edge. Her release came with a blinding force. Anthony looked at her stunned. Dylan gave him a lazy smile. "That was incredible." He looked at her doubtfully as Vivian had been very critical. Dylan sat up and managed to get his pants undone. "We aren't finished yet."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Natalie and Alex pulled up in front of the beach house around seven in the evening. "It really isn't like Dylan. She said she wanted to go get new furniture. Then she leaves us waiting." said Alex.  
  
Natalie looked worriedly at Alex. "You don't think something happened to her at the funeral do you? Mr. Getty said she didn't answer her cell or the regular house number. That is why I insisted we drive out here. Maybe someone else from that gang that attacked the scientist showed up."  
  
"Okay let's go check on her. She probably fell asleep, she is still recovering," said Alex climbing out of the car. The two angels walked up to the rain slicked sidewalk to the door and knocked. There was no answer. "Knock again." Natalie knocked again. Still no one answered?  
  
"Do you have a key?" Natalie asked Alex who was already digging though her purse.  
  
"Of course I do. I have one for each of you, just in case," she said removing a key tagged "Dylan". She placed the key in the lock and turned it. The tumblers rotated and the lock opened.  
  
Anthony heard a noise outside and opened his eyes and looked at the woman curled up next to him with her head on his chest. He wondered if being with Dylan was what happiness was. He had never been truly happy before at least not in the way he was with her. He heard the noise again. He slipped out of be carefully as not to wake Dylan and pulled his pants on as he did so he heard the lock click open. He walked into the living room and face to face with Natalie and Alex.  
  
"You?" asked Alex in surprise. Anthony waited to see if she was going to attack, but she didn't she just stared at him in surprise. Natalie had a huge grin plastered to her face. It made him uncomfortable. He walked over to the coffee table and picked up his cigarette case and lit one. "Where is Dylan?" Alex demanded to know.  
  
Dylan appeared in the doorway wrapped in a sheet her hair a mess and her eyes ringed with black mascara that ran from her crying. "Oh. hi.." she said sheepishly a bit embarrassed by her state.  
  
Natalie looked from the Thin Man to her best friend. "I guess you forgot about going to Ikea," she said still smiling smile.  
  
"Yeah," she said blushing. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Anthony. "I guess I don't need a new mattress after all." 


End file.
